


High Stakes Galactic Pinball: The Formation of the Rebel Alliance

by SianShanya



Series: How Ahsoka Tano (sort of) Saved the Galaxy [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka and Clone Bros stick it to the Empire, Anakin is a walking diaster, F/M, Happy(ish) Skywalker AU, Luke Skywalker is a nerd, Obi-Wan attempts to find two children, Padme is a badass single mother, With grudging tagalong Ventress, but not a Sith, hopefully funny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4011619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SianShanya/pseuds/SianShanya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carrying on from "I Know" and "Meditation and Blasterbolts", Anakin, Padmé, and the kids duck Imperials and Sith alike, Obi-Wan tries to help, and Ahsoka's cell has a really bad time. Meanwhile, Bail Organa does his best to bring the fledgeling Alliance into fighting shape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Not Enough is Explained

10 BBY. Hyperspace, somewhere between Tatooine and Nar Shaddaa

 

Space was blue. Space was blue, and it was the most astral thing Leia had ever seen. It swirled around the little starship in a narrow corridor, like a tunnel, and Leia knew they were going faster than light, but it didn’t feel like it. She wasn’t sure how Dad and the Terellian pilot could focus on anything but how wizard it was. Leia sure couldn’t. Of course, today, that was probably a good thing.

It had been 10 minutes since Leia's house had blown up.

In 10 minutes, her life had changed, and something told her it wasn't gonna ever go back. So yeah, it was a good thing space was so pretty, because otherwise, Leia might have had to think about _that_ instead.

“Hey, can you get your slave off my viewport, please? She’s gonna leave smudges.” Leia jerked back and glared at the woman. Their pilot, who was either a smuggler or a bounty hunter, if her ship was anything to go by, had said it like a joke, but Leia sure as kreth didn’t think it was funny.

“I’m not a karking slave!” she snapped, crossing her arms. Had she been looking, she would have seen her father shoot a truly frightening look at the back of Alina Karalen’s head, but she wasn’t, so she just heard him say,

“Language, young lady.” Leia’s mouth made an ‘O’ of outrage, and she turned towards her father, standing between her and the cockpit hatch.

“You say that all the time!”

“Come on, Princess. Let’s leave our pilot to her business.” There was a strange edge to the way   
he said ‘pilot’ that made her walk a little faster. 

Outside the cockpit, the air was much cooler, and Leia pulled the ends of her cloak tighter around herself, shivering. 

“Why’s it so cold out here?” she asked, looking up at Dad. He grinned down at her and opened the door to the ship’s tiny common room, equipped with a sofa and dejarik table. Leia scrambled up onto the sofa, watching Dad expectantly. He dropped down next to her before answering.

“Space is just cold, Princess. There are no close by stars to warm it up, like there are on Tatooine. You just couldn’t feel it in the cockpit, ‘cause there are lots of machines up there, all giving off heat.”

“Oh.” she said, screwing up her face. “I don’t like it.” Dad chuckled.

“I didn’t either, the first time I left home.” The word brought all of Leia’s fears back. The morning had seemed to last entire days. She couldn’t believe that only two hours ago, she’d been swinging her legs off of Dad’s workstation while Jani, the Twi’lek droid mechanic, made silly faces at her from across the garage. Now, she was wondering if she’d ever see Jani again. 

“Why did we have to leave, Dad?” Dad took a deep breath and let it all out in a whoosh of air.

“Did you feel the Force shift this morning, a few minutes after I left to work on the ship?” Leia nodded. She’d been helping Granny Mirilba with her stew, and the shift had almost made her faceplant into the pot. It had felt all weird and wrong and not at all like the Force normally felt, and it had made her want to jump out of her own skin.

“The shift happened because a very bad person came to Tatooine this morning. An Imperial agent.” Leia’s brows drew together in confusion.

“I don’t understand. There’ve been Imps on Tatooine my whole life. They’ve been in our house.” She felt a pang at the thought of their house, which was now a scorched hole in the street.

“Yeah, but those were just Stormtroopers.” said Dad. “They wouldn’t know a Force-sensitive if one fell out of the sky on top of them.”

“Does the Empire not like Force-sensitives?” asked Leia, an idea popping into her mind. “Is that why you don’t like ‘em?” 

“Part of why.” said Dad, very unhelpfully. “But no, they don’t like people like us. If they found us, they’d arrest us.” She noticed he didn’t say Force-sensitives.

“Why?” she drew her knees into her chest, very sure she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“The Empire is evil, Leia. When the Emperor took power, he killed anyone who didn’t agree with him. He also wiped out the Jedi.” The word had a weight to it in the Force, and Leia felt something, like a thousand voices murmuring all around her. 

“What’s a Jedi?” she asked. Dad’s face tightened, and he closed his eyes for just a second, scar rippling across his skin.

“For thousands of years, since the Old Republic, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace in the Galaxy. Before the Empire, there were 10,000 Jedi in the Galaxy, all Force users like you, and,” his gaze flicked to the cockpit door for a moment, then back to her face. “a long time ago, before you were born, I was one.” He said that like it was some huge, horrible secret. And maybe it was, but to Leia, it was just a word. She was a lot more concerned that he'd lied to her. Because whatever 'Jedi' meant, it sure as the nine Corellian hells wasn't 'starship mechanic.'

“But the Empire-“

“The Empire destroyed the Jedi, because its leader, Emperor Palpatine, is a Sith Lord. Where the Jedi believed in peace, the Sith believe in chaos and evil. They use the Dark Side of the Force, like I told you about.” Leia remembered, the smell of blood in their little hut and the red faced creature dressed in black. “You and I are Jedi, Princess, and the Empire will stop at nothing to get rid of us, because we are a threat to the Emperor. The Imperial who came to Tatooine this morning was a Sith too, that’s why you felt the Force shift when he arrived.”

Leia thought about it for a moment, staring at the ship’s gray hull. She was afraid, and a little angry too, but with her Dad here, no-one could hurt her. Compared to Dad, the Empire and Sith Lords didn't have a chance. She nodded.

“Okay.” she said, looking up into Dad’s blue eyes. “What do we do?” Dad made a very soft noise in the back of his throat, almost a laugh.

“Well, first, we go to Nar Shaddaa.” he said, hand coming to rest on the durasteel cylinder on his belt. He’d been doing that every so often ever since he’d put it on, and Leia had no idea why. “And then, I make a few calls to some old friends.”

***

10 hours earlier, Hyperspace.

Padmé threw herself against the back of her chair, shaking with relief as the stars stretched out around the ship, carrying them away from Coruscant and the Imperial Home Fleet. Behind her, Sabé was stroking Luke’s hair.

“I think he’s coming around.” she said. Padmé practically flew out of her seat to kneel down beside her son’s seat as Luke’s blond brows came down, wrinkling his forehead. .

“M-mom?” he croaked. Padmé took his small hand in her own.

“I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“My head hurts.” said Luke, opening his eyes. Padmé could have cried, she was so thankful. Instead, she smiled and undid his crash webbing so that he could move.. Sabé got up and went to the next room, returning with a glass of water and a tablet of painkiller. 

“Here, Love.” she said, passing them to him. Luke took the painkiller and sipped at his water.

“What happened, sweetheart?” asked Padmé. It had been terrifying, even more so than the thought of capture, to hear her son scream and thrash while being completely unable to help him, or even see him.

“I-I’m not sure.” said Luke. “There was something in my head, and it was telling me to run. It went quiet when you took off. But then, everything went white and I was so cold and scared. I don’t know what happened.” Seeing Padmé’s stricken expression, he added, “It’s gone now.” Then, his eyes lit up with curiosity. “Are we going to Naboo, Mom?” Padmé had to smile at his resilience. Only an eight-year-old could go from screaming in pain to wondering where they were headed in less than five minutes.

“No, honey, we’re not going to Naboo. Not this time.” Luke’s face fell. 

“Where are we going, then? And why did we have to leave so fast? Are we in trouble?” Padmé sighed. She’d been hoping to avoid this conversation, at least for a little while. 

There was no easy way to tell your son that you’d been lying to him his whole life, after all.

“We’re going to Dac.” she said. “I need to talk to a friend of mine. And we had to leave so quickly because the Emperor was about to arrest me.” Luke didn’t look horrified at that, he merely cocked his head to the side with a questioning look on his face. Sabé, on the other hand, shot her a loaded look that meant they’d be having a conversation once Luke was out of the cockpit.

“Why?” Worry dawned in the boy’s eyes. “Did you do something bad?”

“No, no, sweetheart, I didn’t do anything bad.” _Other than plot treason._ “But I don’t agree with the Emperor or the Empire. I believe the Galaxy should be governed by a democracy, and the Emperor wants to rule alone.” 

“So he was gonna arrest you for disagreeing with him?” asked Luke, his blond brows knitting together. “That’s so not wizard.” Padmé let out a startled laugh. “It’s not funny, Mom!” he said, looking at her like he thought she might have lost her mind. She shook her head.

“No, no, of course it’s not. I’m sorry for laughing, I’m just so glad you’re alright.” All of a sudden, the implications of what had happened in the past hour, of the Empire knowing about Bail and her treachery, hit her. If they were after her, they’d be after him, too, and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and-she shut down that train of thought. She had to stay calm. Anakin was perfectly capable of defending himself and Leia, as were Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. They’d be fine. They’d be fine. She clenched her hands to stop the shaking.

Sabé, seeing her distress, bent down so that she was at Luke’s eye level. 

“Hey, how about you and threepio go and find some drinks, huh?” She gestured to the golden droid, which she’d turned off as soon as they’d boarded, not wanting to hear its fussing. “I know there’s some fizzy juice around here.” Luke’s face lit up at the prospect of fizzy juice, which was a very special treat, and took off, hitting C-3PO’s on switch and hauling the droid after him. As the door shut behind them, Sabé fixed Padmé with a knowing look.

“I knew it.” she said. “He’s Master Skywalker’s son, isn’t he?” Padmé nodded. 

“Anakin survived the Purge. After Palpatine became Emperor, I left Coruscant to be with him. Three days after the Republic fell, I gave birth to twins.” Sabé opened her mouth, but Padmé wasn’t finished. “We decided to go into hiding. Anakin took our daughter, and I took Luke back to Coruscant, to avoid suspicion. Besides, I’m a Senator, I had a duty to my Queen.” 

“And now, the Empire’s discovered that you were together.” It wasn't a question, but Padmé answered anyway. Now that she was talking, it was difficult to stop.

“Yes, that we were together, that he survived Order 66, and that we had twin children. I have to get Luke and myself to Mon Mothma. She can get us in touch with the Rebels.”

“Rebels?!” cried Sabé. “What are you talking about?”

“Senator Organa and I started planning for a rebellion against the Empire just after the Republic fell. Senator Mothma was brought in when Senator Organa returned to Coruscant. As of now, it’s mostly a network of sympathetic Senators and individual cells, but it can protect us from the Empire. Luke and I cannot fall into Palpatine’s hands.”

“I agree. So, Dac?” Padmé could have kissed the other woman. She was quite possibly the most unflappable person in Padmé's life, and Gods knew she needed a little of that today. 

“Yes.” she said. “Senator Mothma sent me a message as we were leaving. She’s on Dac, doing some business with the Mon Calamari.”

As she finished speaking, the door opened and Luke came back in, cans of fizzy juice in hand. Padmé smiled at him and accepted one. The carbonation didn’t do anything to settle the worry in her heart, but it was something to do with her hands, and that was enough.

“How far is it to Dac?” asked her son, after taking a huge gulp of fizzy juice.. 

“Don’t drink it so fast, Luke, you’ll get a stomachache.” Luke glanced down, disappointed. “We’ll be traveling about 14 hours altogether.” she added, realizing she hadn’t answered him. “We have to make a few stops to change vectors, though.” Indeed, they’d have to stop in about an hour to make the first change. Luke nodded, then looked over at Sabé.

“Will you teach me how to shoot your blaster?” he asked, hope shining bright in his eyes. He looked so much like Anakin in that moment that Padmé was reminded forcibly of a different Nubian ship, bound for a different world. Undoubtedly it was the memory that made her interrupt Sabé’s gentle refusal.

“Tell you what, sweetheart,” she said, reaching under her robes and pulling out her holdout blaster. Luke stared in open mouthed surprise. “As soon as we find a training room, I’ll teach you to shoot, I promise.” 

“You have a blaster?” asked her son, eyes wide, reevaluating everything he knew about his mother. 

“I have several blasters, sweetheart. Believe it or not, I got into several fights during the Clone Wars.” Luke continued to stare at her, eyes darting between the blaster and her face.

“You’re amazing, Mom!” She smiled, though her thoughts were nowhere near happy. She’d have given anything, in that moment to not be amazing, to be a simple farmer’s wife, eking out a living on her homeworld and untroubled by Empires or Sith Lords. 

_Snap out of it, Amidala. You have a life, and this is it._

And so, instead of asking the goddess for the hundredth time what she’d done to deserve this, she held her blaster out for her eight-year-old son to look at.

“First lesson,” she said, running a finger along the barrel. “This switch is a safety. When it’s flipped, the blaster won’t fire. Unless you’re planning on shooting within the next 10 seconds, it should be on, got it?” Luke nodded, blue eyes wide. 

“What’s that one?” he asked, jabbing at the switch above the trigger. 

“That one switches between stun bolts and laser bolts. Do you know what stun bolts do?”

“Yeah!” exclaimed Luke. “They knock people out for a few minutes, right?”   
“More than a few minutes, but less than an hour, yes. But they don’t work on droids. Can you guess why?” Luke frowned, thinking about it. 

“Because-because droids don’t have muscles and stuff?” Padmé smiled again, a genuine one this time.

“Close.” she said, holding out a hand. “Stun bolts actually mess with our brains, which is why they don’t work on droids. It’s the wrong kind of energy to mess up their computers.” 

“Okaay, so, I can’t stun a droid.” 

“Not with a stun bolt from a regular blaster, no.”

“Alright.” said Luke, accepting this new knowledge. “What else?”

They passed the hour in hyperspace this way, with Padmé and Sabé explaining the parts of their blasters to a fascinated Luke. Predictably, he was highly curious as to how all the circuitry worked. So curious, in fact, that Padmé had to pull up schematics on her datapad in order to explain what he wanted to know. As such, before she knew it, her proximity alarm went off, and it was time to drop out of hyperspace and change course. Padmé re-holstered her blaster, laughing at Luke’s halfhearted suggestion that he hold it for her, “just for a second, Mom!” 

She took the ship’s controls as the stars stretched out and reformed. According to her navicomputer, the planet below them was Abregado-rae. It was a Core world, and far too close to Coruscant for her comfort, but they’d only be there for a few minutes, while the navicomputer reset. 

The ship that appeared on her scanners wasn’t Imperial-class, and so she only gave it a cursory once-over on the screen. That was, until it caught her in a tractor beam.

“Nubian Senator, you are advised not to resist.” came the voice over the comm, rough and accented. “This is the attack shuttle Dark Corona, affiliated with Captain Hondo Ohnaka.”

“No.” breathed Padmé. “No, this isn’t happening.” Except, of course, it was. She had escaped Coruscant from right under the Emperor’s nose, only to be boarded by Outer-Rim pirates. 

She had three options. She could fight. Attack shuttles were large, easily carrying 20 men. She and Sabé might manage to take about six of them. On the other hand, surrendering was an equally bad option. She wasn’t certain the Empire had her name and face on a watchlist, but that was only because she hadn’t yet checked the database. If she wasn’t already listed as wanted, she would be soon. These pirates would turn them over in a heartbeat, and that was simply not acceptable. She would not bring her son back to Palpatine to be held over the rest of her family’s head. She wouldn’t. 

Which left the third choice. Luke wouldn’t end up on his knees before Palpatine, but there was a good chance she would. She tried for a split second longer to come up with a fourth option, but there wasn’t one. They’d recognized the ship, and her face was on the holonews fairly often. She wouldn’t get away with taking Luke and running. Her fists clenched.

_Anakin, I’m sorry, my love._

After transmitting an all-clear signal to the shuttle, she slipped from her seat and took her son’s hand. His eyes were wide and frightened as she grabbed his rucksack and led him down the yacht’s main corridor.

“Sabé, you two have to take the escape pod. Go to Dac. Mon Mothma will know what to do. She can protect the two of you.” She passed Sabé her emergency comm. “This, if it still works, will connect you to Bail Organa. He’ll help you as much as he can.” 

“I’m not leaving you, Mom!” Luke’s voice broke, his eyes filling with tears. She bent down to him. 

“Yes, you are. Auntie Sabé will take care of you for just a little while, and I’ll catch up to you.” She looked him in the eyes, willing him to believe her. Judging by his trembling lip, he didn’t. But then, she hadn’t really expected him to. “Luke, sweetheart, I need you to promise me something.” He looked up at her, eyes red and cheeks wet. “Don’t tell anyone your name, unless Aunt Sabé says it’s okay. If anyone asks, I want you to make something up? Can you do that?” 

“Mom-“

“Promise me, sweetheart.” She said forcefully, clutching his hands in her own.

“I-I promise.” he said, and then he flung his skinny arms around her waist. She held him for just a moment, trying to memorize the feel of his hair under her hand. Too soon, she pulled away, shifting her hands to his upper arms.

“Go with Aunt Sabé, okay? Listen to her, and do what she tells you.” Luke nodded, lower lip trembling. “I will see you again, sweetheart, I promise.” Goddess, she hoped she could keep that promise.

The last she saw of her son, he was trying very hard not to cry, hand in Sabé’s, as they boarded the escape pod. It jettisoned safely and dropped toward the planet’s surface. It also went unseen by the pirates, focused as they were on her. With a sigh of relief, Padmé walked back to the cockpit on legs that felt as though they’d turned to creamed roa rice. She sank back into her seat as the shuttle’s gangway locked onto her airlock. The gears of her mind turned double-time, formulating a strategy based on the stories Anakin and Ahsoka had told her about Hondo Ohnaka. A scoundrel and a pirate, certainly, but, at least according to Ahsoka, he had an honorable streak as well. It was her only hope. With that encouraging thought came the sound of boots on her ship.

“I’m in the cockpit!” She called, laying her blaster out on the console and lacing her fingers behind her head. “There’s a protocol droid on board as well.” 

They stormed into the cockpit in a mass of blasters, braids, and spice-scented sweat. Padmé Amidala Skywalker took a deep breath, perhaps the last free breath of her life, and turned to face them.


	2. Bail Organa Gets Some Upsetting News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabé and Bail make a plan. Arana has a realization. Anakin narrowly avoids murder.

10 BBY, Dantooine

Aldera looked wrong with Stormtroopers choking her streets, Bail Organa decided, as he searched through the news recording for footage of his wife. He hadn’t seen her yet; the reporters weren’t focusing on the Palace, but on the market, where squads of white-armored troops patrolled between the stalls, checking papers and harassing vendors. Bail’s fist clenched on the desk. He turned off the news report, unable to watch his world suffer on his account any longer. He wanted, more than anything, to be there, but he knew damn well that his presence would only make things worse. The Empire was hunting him, after all.

That thought didn’t make him feel any better, oddly enough. He had utter faith in Breha, but he worried for her all the same. Impractical as it was, he wished he’d managed to keep his more anti-Imperial activities to himself. Her job now would be easier if she honestly didn’t know anything. Instead, he’d left his wife to play an extremely dangerous game, and if she lost, their people would be punished right along with her. And Bail wasn’t there.

His comm’s insistent chirping shook him out of his thoughts. Grateful for the distraction, Bail actually managed to sound cheerful when he answered. 

“Organa here.”

“This is Sabé” _Kriff_.

“Sabé?” asked Bail, his momentary cheer slipping away. “Why do you have this comm?”

“We were intercepted above Abregado-Rae.” said the woman, and Bail's stomach dropped out. “My partner allowed herself to be taken prisoner so that I could get away with the cargo. Hondo Ohnaka’s pirate gang has her, as far as I know.” Bail slammed his fist down onto the desk. It could be worse, but not by much. Ohnaka's gang were interested in profits alone; they'd sell Padmé to the highest bidder, and Bail had a horrible feeling that it wouldn't be his fledgeling (and very poor) Alliance.

“Damn.” He growled to himself. To the woman on the other end of the comm, he said, “Alright, stay where you are, I’ll send someone to pick you up and get you offworld.”

“I can't stay here, I'm in an escape pod. Closest city is the main spaceport. I'll try to meet your people there, but my first priority is my cargo.” With that, she cut the transmission. Bail sighed. No matter what he did, it seemed, he couldn’t get ahead. Then, the full implication of what had happened to Padmé hit him like a punch to the jaw. 

There were only two people in the Galaxy that could be trusted with Luke and Sabé. Neither conversation would be fun, but one would most likely result in his getting choked out, Jedi or no. Feeling like a coward, (and also like he needed a stiff drink _right now_ ) Bail punched 441-002 into his comm instead of -003. The voice that answered was crisp and professional and very, very good to hear.

“This is Kenobi.”

 

**

 

10 BBY, Abregado-Rae, About 10 Klicks outside of Abregado-Rae Spaceport

As the transmission dropped, Sabé scrubbed a hand over her face, wondering how in the nine Corellian hells this had happened to her. This morning, she’d arrived on Coruscant to spend the day with her best friend and Luke, watch Padmé’s back at a Senate dinner, maybe get to deck a handsy guard. You know. Something fun.

Crash landing onto a famous Inner Core smuggler’s haven with the son of Senator Amidala and a Goddess-damned Jedi was many things, but fun was decidedly not one of them. 

“Auntie?” came a far too quiet voice behind her. Telling herself to buck up, Sabé turned to Luke. The boy looked about three seconds away from bursting into hysterical tears, and Sabé found herself sympathizing. She didn’t say anything, just folded Luke into her arms, stroking his short blond hair while he clung to her tunic. 

“Shh, shh, we’re going to be alright, Luke. We’ll be fine.” At that, Luke turned his face up to hers, blue eyes shiny with unshed tears.

“What about Mom?” he asked, voice trembling. Sabé took his hands and squeezed.

“You listen to me, Luke Amidala.” she said, and to her surprise, she didn’t have trouble keeping her words steady. “Your mom is the best shot with a blaster I know, and she once convinced a Hutt crime lord not to start a feud with the Republic. She can handle a few stinky pirates, don’t you think?” Luke looked down at the floor, not convinced. Sabé let go of his left hand and lifted his chin, tilting his face back up. “Padmé promised, right? She told you that she’d catch up with us.” Luke nodded hesitantly. “Well, then,” said Sabé. “ She will. We just have to get somewhere safe so that she can come find us, alright?” She forced herself to chuckle. “After all, we can’t sleep in the pod, huh?” Luke cracked a tiny smile as she spoke. 

“Okay, Auntie.” he said, a determined light coming to life in his bright blue eyes. Now aware of his parentage, Luke reminded her rather forcibly of his father as a young boy; in fact, it was giving Sabé a weird sense of déjà vu. Repressing the urge to check the sky for Trade Federation ships, she stood up and checked her blaster before taking Luke’s hand and leading him out onto Aberegado-Rae’s soil. The grass under Sabé’s boots was springy and soft. To the west, mountains dominated the horizon, dark against the pale blue sky. According to Sabé’s datapad, the pod had crashed about 10 klicks south of the nearest city. Sure enough, with macrobinoculars, she could see the spaceport’s towers in the distance. 

“The city’s a long way away, huh?” said Luke, after she passed him the binocs. Sabé merely nodded.

“Maybe we’ll find some nice people on their way in who’ll give us a lift.” She said, grinning. Luke grinned back, most of his fear for Padmé gone in the excitement of Being on an Adventure. Sabé, who was not eight and therefore not nearly as resilient, was having a harder time ignoring her desire to burst into hysterics. The sheer force of her Handmaiden training was all that kept her smile in place. For Luke’s sake, she would hold it together. 

No matter what, she promised herself, she would protect Padmé's son.

 

**

 

10 BBY, Mandalore, Capital City of Keldabe

Arana knew the second his boss' image solidified that he’d made a mistake. Even through the weak holo signal, Arana could feel the hot, poisonous rage coming off of the man. Obviously, Malefus was in the middle of something, and it wasn’t going well.

Oh well. Might as well be shot for a nexu as for a tooka. 

“Apologies for the interruption, M’Lord. It’s just that I’ve caught a few of the Mandalorian terrorists, and-“

“Your terrorists are not my concern at the moment, Commander.” snapped Malefus, eyes glowing a bright gold. “Do _not_ bother me again.” With that, the transmission cut out. Arana slumped back in his seat, torn between annoyance and relief. On the one hand, he was still alive, and he knew better than to take it for granted. On the other, his superior was a complete ass, and as a result, Arana had no idea what to do with his three remaining prisoners. 

The most obvious choice was to use them to get the rest. After all, three members of the cell were still breathing free air, and Arana’s Mandalore assignment wouldn’t be considered complete until he had them all in custody. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the resources for a surefire trap. Really, it had been a stroke of luck that he’d caught the ones he had. And what he absolutely could not afford was another embarrassment of the Imperial command in Keldabe. If such an embarrassment occurred on his watch, Arana might as well go ahead and sign his own demotion orders. 

Ideally, he’d be able to get one of his prisoners to give up the others. However, after conversations with all three of them, he was reasonably sure that wasn’t going to happen. He’d actually learned some new swear words from the Clone Trooper, and the Nautolan boy hadn’t said a word, merely stared at the wall, a lost look in his dark eyes. As for the Togruta woman, well, she made him uncomfortable, there was no other way to put it. She reminded him of his childhood, of the way he’d looked up to the brave Jedi Knights, defending peace and the Republic alike. 

Not exactly the best memories to be immersed in, as an Imperial officer charged with making sure the Jedi and what they stood for were forgotten. 

Which had all been fine when the Jedi were ghosts, their presence fading fast from Galactic history. It was somewhat more difficult to dismiss them as war criminals when they sat in his interrogation room, not acting at all like crazy traitors who had brought down the Republic and tried to murder its leader for no reason.

Sighing, Arana stood up. The only way he was going to get anywhere was if he continued interrogating them, and Ahsoka Tano was the only one willing to have a conversation beyond spitting Huttese and Mando’a insults at him. 

However, before he could get more than two steps away from his desk, a Junior Agent stepped in and snapped to attention.

“Commander. We’re receiving a transmission from Coruscant for you, Sir.” Arana nodded sharply and followed the young officer down to the Comm hub, where the base’s high-res holo comm was located. The holo winked into existence as he entered, and Arana immediately went stick-straight, hand snapping up to salute. By the man’s rank pin, he was a Grand Moff, one of the Emperor’s elites. 

“You are the chief officer at this base of operations, are you not?” Arana steeled himself. He had no idea what might have happened to prompt this call, but it was almost definitely nothing good.

“Yes, Sir! Commander Niro Arana, Sir.” The man smiled, eyes glittering.

“Congratulations are in order, then, Commander. Your operation has yielded some highly valuable intelligence. Clear the room. I would speak to you in private.” Arana jerked his chin at the techs and junior officers, who scurried for the door, resembling nothing so much as mouse droids. When the door had shut with a hiss, the gray-uniformed officer spoke again. “I am Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, Imperial Governor for the Outer Rim Territories.” Arana barely managed to keep from gaping at the man like a fish. Wondering what his operation could possibly have yielded that was of such value that Tarkin would personally talk to him, he nodded. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir.” 

“Indeed.” said Tarkin. Arana had never in his life heard such a cold, sharp voice, and as he’d met both Lord Malefus and Emperor Palpatine, that was saying something. But Tarkin was speaking again now, and Arana jerked his mind back to the holo, cursing himself for his inattention. “-arrested the insurgents who have been plaguing this system, but the prisoner you sent to Coruscant turned out to be a veritable spice mine of information, given the right-ah-encouragement. I tell you this both as a commendation of your skill as an intelligence officer and because it is likely to be relevant to your investigation on Mandalore.” Here, Tarkin’s dark eyes lit up with something like glee. “Through the prisoner, the Emperor has learned that several Jedi Knights escaped justice for their war crimes. He has also uncovered two traitors in the Imperial Senate.” Arana forced his face to stay neutral, desperately hoping he was hearing things. Insurgents were one thing, Jedi Knights and rogue Senators something entirely different, and he was not at all certain he wanted any part of it. “As a result of this information, I have reason to believe that these traitors and war criminals may try to contact your insurgent cell on Mandalore, as they have used Jedi propaganda in the past. Therefore, I urge you to keep an eye out for these individuals. They just became the Empire’s number one priority, though it will be kept internal. There is no need to terrify the good citizens of the Galaxy.” Arana swallowed hard as the five pictures appeared, and this time, he couldn’t keep a straight face. 

The images of Bail Organa, Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Grandmaster Yoda were staring up at him, after all. 

“Ah, t-thank you for the commendation, Sir.” He said, trying to recover his composure It was a testament to how flustered he was the his next words ever saw the light of day. “If I might ask, what became of the boy?” Tarkin grinned, all cold satisfaction. 

“He was killed during interrogation.” 

Arana’s brain went white with horror. It must have shown on his face, too, because Tarkin laughed, sending chills down Arana’s spine. “Do recover yourself, Commander. The prisoner was a traitor, and a Jedi at that. You know as well as I do that there are no innocents among them. You should be proud, Commander Arana. You have done your Emperor a great service.” With that, the transmission cut out, Tarkin’s image dissipating. 

The Zabrak boy’s brown eyes were seared onto Niro Arana's mind. A litany of horrifying images played for him, the clone trooper’s anger, the Nautolan’s numb silence, Malefus and his feral smiles, Palpatine’s inhuman croaking, and, loudest of all, Ahsoka Tano’s words.

_I don’t think you know what side you chose._

Dear Gods, he’d sent that 16 year old boy to Coruscant, to the Emperor. Tarkin had all but offered him a promotion for it. 

_You should be proud, Commander Arana._

Arana’s stomach turned. He made it to the fresher across the hallway, just barely, before losing his lunch. Half sitting, half lying on the fresher floor, his back pressed awkwardly against the cool durasteel wall, Commander Niro Arana of the Imperial Special Operations Command had only one thought amidst the haze of terrified brown eyes and ringing accusations in his mind.

He could never, ever, if he lived for a thousand years, make this right. 

And yet, he had to try, all the same.

 

**

 

10 BBY, Hyperspace.

The holo was from a Senate session towards the end of the war. The last time she’d spoken before the full Senate, and the last time she’d been on the holonews before Order 66. Her hair had been sculpted into one of her ridiculous (but always beautiful) styles, and her hands danced in front of her, illustrating her words. She was talking about the school budgets on Coruscant, something about how her committee had found a way to allocate resources, despite the Republic’s military focus. Mostly, her eyes were shining, bright with the purpose and passion that made her Padmé. 

Anakin couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face to see her, even just an old holo. He didn’t often allow himself to look at this, the only image of her that he had. He absolutely refused to watch the current Senate broadcasts, well aware that seeing it would only make him angry. 

Besides, she didn’t speak before the assembly anymore. More than once, he’d heard spacers mention how much they missed seeing “the pretty little Nabooan” on the holonet. 

“That your girl?” came the Jango Jumper’s voice. Anakin shut the holo off and glared at her, silent. “Kriff.” Said the woman, shrugging. “Just trying to make small talk, man.” She dropped onto one of the benches with a tired sigh, eyes on him.

“Actually, I meant to apologize for the slave comment earlier.” she said. Anakin raised an eyebrow. “It wasn't really in good taste, and I didn’t think it through all the way. My mom always told me my mouth would get me in trouble someday. I’m kind of a nervous talker, you know?” Anakin couldn’t refrain from snorting.

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.” he said. She gave him an apologetic smile.

“Anyway, the girl took it personally, and I’m sorry for that. I just thought, with her being in the shop and it being Tatooine-“ Anakin cut her off, not trusting in his self control enough to listen to the rest.

“She’s my daughter.” he said shortly. 

“She’s a real spitfire. She get that from you?” Anakin sighed, trying very hard not to show the woman exactly how Leia had come by her tendency to blow up on beings who pissed her off. Instead, he crossed his arms and shot her a question of his own, more out of a desire to avoid answering than any curiosity on his part.

“How did you end up as a bounty hunter? You’re not much like the ones I’ve met.” She shrugged again.

“You know, I’m not really sure. My parents were part of a traveling show kinda deal, but I was never any good at the dancing shit they did, so I left when I was 18. Somehow, I ended up on Nal Hutta and the rest is pretty much history.” She opened her mouth again, projecting _nervousquestion_ in the Force.

“I swear by the Corellian hells, if you ask me why the Empire’s after me, I will hit you.” he snapped, putting enough 'General Skywalker' into the words to silence the most wayward of GAR Naval officers.

It didn't work.

“Actually, I was gonna ask you how you managed to survive the Purges.” She narrowed her eyes at him as his mind clouded over with something alarmingly like panic. “I remember the holoreels. You’re kinda famous, you know?” Her eyes widened then, and Anakin realized belatedly that his hand was wrapped around his lightsaber hilt. “Whoa, calm down. I’ve got no love for the Empire. They kinda get in the way of my business and shit. If I was gonna turn you in I’d have done it already. Besides, can’t you guys, like, read thoughts or something?” 

“No, actually.” muttered Anakin, releasing his grip on the ‘saber. “I almost didn’t.” She flashed him a confused look. “You asked how I survived Order 66. I wasn’t near any clones when it started, so I had some warning, but I still nearly died getting off of Coruscant.” 

“Oh,” she said, drawing the word out. “I always thought it was kinda karked how the Imps just let the Jedi win the war for ‘em and then decided they were traitors.” She stood up, then. “We’ll be entering realspace again in a few minutes, Kin Starseeker. You should probably wake your kid up.” With that, she turned and walked back into the cockpit. 

Anakin raised a shaking hand to his forehead, wishing for the simplicity of life on Tatooine, if nothing else about it. He found Leia asleep in a bunk, curled around her stuffed bantha toy. He shook her awake and placated her usual grumpiness with the promise of watching the ship's descent. Hair a fluffy, fuzzy mess, she followed him up to the cockpit as the Terellian's ship re-entered realspace.

**

As he ducked through throngs of greasy lowlifes, all Anakin could think was that Nar Shaddaa hadn't changed much since he'd last been here. He kept a hand on Leia's back so as to keep her close to him, and searched the strip for a cantina, preferably one that wasn't advertising strippers. 

Leia was hardly sheltered, but Padmé might literally kill him if she ever found out that her daughter had been exposed to that particular side of adulthood.

"I don't like this place." muttered Leia. Anakin grinned down at her. He hadn't been able to do anything for her hair other than braid it, and she looked decidedly scruffy, wrinkled nose and dignified expression aside.

"It's basically Tatooine, but with buildings instead of sand." he said. "But I don't like it either." Spotting a small cantina down the next street, Anakin ducked between a pair of Weequay and a Rodian, tugging Leia behind him. There were no intoxicated exotic dancers on the bar, so Anakin made a beeline for the dilapidated comm station in the corner, currently occupied by a hooded figure speaking to (surprise, surprise) another hooded figure. The other being wrapped up as Anakin and Leia approached, and he keyed in the frequency he wanted.

"Oh, dear." said Bail Organa. "They came after you already." 

"Yeah, this morning. We got away clean though. What happened?" Bail cast his eyes down.

"We had a leak. They caught one of our little band of refugees yesterday. I managed to warn Padmé before they started jamming my comms. She's offworld, but there was a complication." Anakin did _not_ like the sound of that.

"Complication?" he asked, brows coming down.

"Yes." The boy is safe with her people, but she was captured. Sabé believes it was Ohnaka's men." Anakin clenched the fist that wasn't currently locked in an eight-year-old's death grip. Leia wasn't listening, occupied instead by the fight that had broken out across the taproom. 

"Thanks for telling me." he muttered. Bail relaxed. "Have you heard from my Master?" At that, Bail smiled faintly.

"Yes. He's headed to where Sabé and Luke landed. With any luck, they'll be at my location in a few days." 

"Good." said Anakin, mind already whirring. "I'm gonna get Leia there as well, then I'm going after her." 

"I can't let you do that." said Bail, crossing his arms. "You know that's exactly what they're hoping for."

"With all due respect, Senator Organa," said Anakin, "You can't stop me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm not dead! Sorry, school and writer's block combined forces to shoot my progress on this in the face, but now the block is gone, so you should see some more chapters pretty soon! Leave me your comments, they give me strength!


	3. Padmé Goes on the Galaxy's Worst Bar Crawl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé engages in negotiations. Obi-Wan and Asajj also engage in negotiations, but of the more aggressive type.

10 BBY, Florrum.

Padmé found it extremely ironic that pirates, with their chaotic natures and utter lack of civility, even had a boss, let alone felt the need to check in with him and ask him what to do with their prisoners. 

Of course, she thought as the shuttle descended through Florrum’s upper atmosphere, her captor’s need for validation was the only reason she was still out of the Empire’s clutches. Surely, if the shuttle’s captain, a rather heavyset Weequay with an eyepatch and a nearly unintelligible accent, had any more independence, he’d have carted a runaway senator off to Coruscant for a quick payday. Instead, she was billions of miles away from Darth Sidious and the Imperial Navy both, and she had to smile, despite her captivity.

“Keep smilin’, my pretty.” growled the captain, leering at her. “You ain’t gonna be doin’ it much longer.” Padmé’s first instinct was to snap back at him, but she bit her lip instead. She needed as much goodwill as these pirates could give her. She pressed her cuffed wrists to her stomach, mind drawn to her son. Had they landed safely? Were they still on Abregado-Rae? She hoped not. She hoped Bail’s people had brought them to a Rebel base. However, her hopes had a nasty habit of never coming true. And so Padmé worried.

**

Anakin, after much prompting, had told her about Florrum and his misadventures with Obi-Wan and Count Dooku on the desert world. As she blinked in the harsh amber sunlight, she couldn’t help but think that he’d exaggerated about the planet’s unpleasantness. It was warm, but not unbearably so, and the stark red landscape was sort of beautiful, in a harsh way. The hazy atmosphere she could live without, but all in all, it wasn’t so bad. Certainly not a “barren wasteland with less civilization than even Tatooine.”

Ah, well. Anakin had always had a flair for the dramatic, she’d be lying to herself if she tried to deny it. One pirate’s hand closed tight around her upper arm, and she fought down the urge to yank away with a sharp “don’t touch me!” He dragged her along, through the compound’s heavy blast doors, and into utter chaos. 

After staring for a few moments, Padmé determined that the dim room was a bar, but it was far less sophisticated than any she’d ever been in before, including Ziro's Coruscant nightclub. Weequay lounged on every flat surface, the bar itself included. Females waltzed around, laughing and rewarding grabby hands with punches to the face and litanies of profanity. Padmé approved. 

In the center of the room, seated at a table, sat Hondo Ohnaka. Padmé recognized him easily from the negotiations for Dooku’s ransom. Having spotted her as soon as his men came in, the pirate stood and beckoned with a gray-skinned hand, then ducked through the door in the back of the room. The pirate behind her smacked her ass with enough force to make her stumble forward and grunted,

“Move it.” Padmé glared at the Galaxy in general, and walked forward, ignoring her smarting backside. 

Ohnaka’s office was fairly spartan, to Padmé’s surprise. His desk was large, but it wasn’t made of anything special, and the room’s best feature was the big bay window overlooking the compound’s landing area. Ohnaka himself sank into his chair and swung both feet up onto the desk’s surface. From the scuffmarks crisscrossing the metal, Padmé supposed that this was his customary sitting position.

“So,” began the pirate boss. “What is Naboo’s Senator doing out in space all by herself, I wonder?” Padmé raised her chin and dropped her shoulders back.

“The question, Captain Ohnaka, is why your men chose to interfere in the business of an Imperial Senator. I assure you, you have no legal grounds to do so. Perhaps, if you allow me to go on my way, I might forget this ever happened.”

“I quake in my boots, dear Senator.” Said Ohnaka with a grin. “All the same, I am wondering why your name was placed on a list of missing Imperial citizens. I imagine the Emperor will be missing you, yes?” Padmé’s blood ran cold. Thanking the goddess for her political training, she kept her face carefully blank.

“Very well.” She said. “Might we speak in private, Captain Ohnaka?” she looked at her two guards. “ It’s not that I don’t trust your men, of course, but I would feel more comfortable without them here.” The pirate squinted at her, canting his head to one side. Padmé put on her most disarming smile. “Come now, Captain, I am a small female senator from a peaceful culture. Surely you could take me if you needed to. Why, I’ve heard you’ve defeated Jedi Knights in combat.” Ohnaka’s fist clenched on his desk. Padmé lifted her bound wrists in demonstration and smiled the most saccharine smile she could muster. After another moment, the Weequay scowled and flipped his hand at the two guards They left, shooting each other impressed looks. When the door had shut behind them, Ohnaka turned to her, tapping one long finger against his chin.

“You have chosen the right career, Senator. That was well played.” Padmé smiled again and nodded graciously. She was in hot water here, but no amount of terror could keep her manners at bay. “Now, then, Senator Amidala, tell me. Who do you supposed will pay the most for you, the Empire or your Queen?” Padmé snorted.

“Oh, the Empire will, most definitely. You’ll get nothing from the Naboo. We have protocols in place, no ransoms will be paid under any circumstance.” 

“Something tells me there’s more.” said Ohnaka. “I don’t think you particularly want to go back to Imperial space, considering you clearly haven’t been kidnapped.” 

“Actually, I have, but not from Coruscant.” she snapped, raising an eyebrow. “The Empire might pay to get me back, but then again, they might not. It’s not as though they’ve put a bounty on my head. It’s just as likely they’ll send a Star Destroyer and burn your compound and your crews to ashes. You know how the Imperial Navy feels about being embarrassed as well as I do. They certainly wouldn’t take kindly to the kind of posturing you did when you caught Dooku.”

“Hm.” Ohnaka tapped his finger against his chin. “What are you proposing, then?”

“Keep my ship.” said Padmé. “It’s a high-end model, you can get a good bit of money for it. Give me just enough credits to get a shuttle off world, and then we both forget this ever happened.” Ohnaka threw back his head, laughing, and Padmé’s heart sank. 

“I don’t think so, my dear.” he said, still chuckling. “I’m a pirate, not a used ship salesman. I think I’ll take the possibility of a reward from the Empire over letting you go.” He opened his mouth to call for his men, and Padmé reacted out of sheer desperation.

“Wait!” The Weequay looked at her in surprise. “Do you love the Empire?” 

“I fail to see what that has to do with anything.” Padmé shook her head.

“That’s not what I asked.” she said. “If you can honestly tell me you prefer the Empire to the Old Republic, then by all means, sell me back to it.” She took a step toward him. “But if you can’t, then believe me, you do not want me in Palpatine’s custody any more than I do.” 

“Oh? Please explain, my dear. Keep in mind that I hold business far above any nostalgia.”

“This isn’t about nostalgia, or even ideological differences. This is about lives.” Padmé leaned forward. He opened his mouth, but she wasn’t finished. “I believe that you have a sense of honor, Captain Ohnaka. We have that in common. So I ask you again; do you love the Empire, or do you want to see its shadow leave the Galaxy?” Ohnaka cocked his head, watching her.

“I have no love for the Empire, Senator, but there is no dishonor in handing you over to them.”

“I am more than a Senator, Captain. I am a wife and a mother. My son will suffer for your choice as well, if I end up on my knees before the Emperor. I have no illusions about my ability to keep information from him. He will rip my son’s location out of my head, and then he’ll kill me to destabilize my husband. I don’t even want to think about what he’ll do to my son. My Luke is eight years old. Where is the honor, Captain, in condemning him to a fate worse than death? In plunging the Galaxy deeper into darkness? You know what Palpatine is, just as you knew what Dooku was. How can you stomach an action that will further his agenda?”

“Such an idealist.” Said Ohnaka with a smile. “Your vision for the future is truly beautiful, Senator. However, you seem to have a very high opinion of your importance, my dear. If you are going to convince me not to cart you off to Coruscant, you will have to explain a little further.”

And so she did. She told him about Anakin, about Palpatine’s Sith nature and his quest to make the Chosen One his apprentice. Hondo Ohnaka listened with bright, calculating eyes. When she lapsed into silence at last, he sighed.

“I like you, Senator Amidala. Truly I do. You believe in a better Galaxy, despite the fact that you could easily prosper under the Imperial system. I respect your commitment to your goals. All the same, if I choose not to present you at the nearest Imperial outpost, it won’t be because of your pretty face and high idealism.” Padmé frowned at him, confused.

“It will be because the Empire is bad for my business.” said the pirate, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know, Senator, that you are the first opportunity for real profit I’ve seen in the past two years? The Empire pays attention, you see, when ships go missing, far more than your Old Republic did. I am reduced to selling spice. You probably don’t know this, but that is a sad, sad line of work for a man of my talents.” Padmé leaned back, crossing her arms.

“So, you’ll trade ships and send me on my way?” a glimmer of hope flared to life in her chest, pushing at the icy fear that had been crushing her mind since the pirates had hailed her. Perhaps she would catch up to Luke, after all. Ohnaka grinned, revealing several gold teeth.

“You know, I think I will. Your lovely story has convinced me, Senator. Just remember old Hondo when you kill our dearly beloved Emperor and return the Galaxy to sunshine and rainbows, ah?” Padmé’s arms dropped to her sides, a smile breaking across her face. She was going to see her son again and, if she was lucky, her husband and daughter as well. 

Just as she opened her mouth to thank the pirate, the office door hissed open and a male Weequay skidded into the room, braids flying.

“Boss! We’ve got a problem!” Hondo looked over, and the younger pirate held out a pair of long-range specs. Padmé didn’t have much experience in reading Weequay expressions, but she thought he looked scared. The pirate boss took the proffered specs and aimed them at the sky. He looked for barely a second before spitting an obvious curse in a language Padmé didn’t understand. Beside her, the nameless pirate’s eyes widened, impressed, she supposed, at his Captain's inventiveness. When she looked back, Hondo was holding the specs out to her. With growing dread, Padmé took them and looked. The ships were steel-gray and horribly, horribly familiar.

The Empire had found her.

 

**

 

10 BBY, Corellia, Capital City of Coronet

“I should never have sat down at that Force-damned table with you.” growled Asajj, tugging the hood of her stolen cloak further down. 

“Oh, come now, darling, surely there’s some good to come out of it?” whispered Obi-Wan with a cheeky grin. 

“Yeah, me.” she muttered, and felt an answering flash of amusement from her companion. “Not entirely sure it was worth it, though.” Keeping a hold on her hood, she turned to look across the street at Coronet’s main spaceport, hoping she’d imagined the legions of Stormtroopers guarding it. No such luck, of course. She could barely see the nearest ship for all the cheap armor.

"At least this is exciting.” quipped Obi-Wan.

“No offense, dear, but if you don’t shut up, I really will leave you here.” she snapped, vitriol only slightly dampened by the fact that she’d had to whisper it.

“And take my shirt?” he asked, reaching across the tabletop and tugging on her sleeve. “Surely not even you would do something so cruel.” Ventress snorted. “I would prefer you didn’t leave me here, though.”

“I signed up to get laid, not save helpless children. Who is this kid you have to help, anyway?”

“Get us onto a ship and away from any open ears, and I’ll tell you. You’ll like it, I promise.” Suddenly, his eyes focused on something over shoulder, and a split second later, he leaned across the table and kissed her. Surprised, it took her a moment to realize what he was doing, but the click of military issue boots on the walkway behind her cleared it up. She pressed her palm to his cheek, effectively blocking the street’s view of his face, and closed her eyes.

It was nearly a full minute before the officer passed by their table, at which point Obi-Wan finally broke the kiss and took a deep breath. 

“Lucky you’re with me, and not your little nephew.” she said, grinning. 

“Hush,” he murmured. “you enjoyed it. Now, any ideas on how to get past our friends across the street?” 

“Perhaps if they had somewhere else to be?” she swirled her caf around in her mug, thinking. “A sighting in another part of the city would draw most of them off, and you and I could take the rest.”

“That could work.” Said Obi-Wan, running his thumb along his jaw. “How to go about engineering a Jedi sighting, though?”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to sacrifice your ‘saber?” she asked. He said nothing, merely shooting her a Look. “Mm. Didn’t think so. Your go.” 

“What about an explosion?” Asajj shrugged. 

“Maybe. It’d have to be a ways away from here, though, and there’s no guarantee they’ll go for it.” Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

“Well, it’s the best we’ve got, and we need to get off world as soon as possible. How close is your ship to the entrance of the port?”

“Maybe 300 meters? Nothing we can’t handle. And she’s fast enough to run the blockade, no problem. I’ve done it before, for jobs.”

“That settles it then.” He stretched luxuriantly, reaching around behind his head. As he brought his hands back down, one snaked out, fast as a striking snake, and wrapped around the skinny upper arm of a short blonde girl, tugging her from where she'd been leaning against the wall.

“If you’re going to eavesdrop, dear, you may as well make yourself useful.” he said. “If I give you this,” he pulled a handful of credits from his belt. “Can you set off an explosion near the communication spire in the Residential District?” The girl nodded, wide brown eyes fixed on the gold tabs. 

“Yeah Miister, I can do that. I need a grenade or something, though.” Asajj pulled a thermal detonator from one of the pouches on her belt and handed it to her. The girl gripped it with both of her bony hands, keeping her fingers well away from the activator. 

“Keep it quiet until you set it off, alright?”

“Okay. You want me to do it now?”

“As soon as possible, yes.” said Obi-Wan with a slight smile, dropping the credits into her satchel. “Also,” he added, “when trying to eavesdrop, one had best not look at the subject of one's eavesdropping. A tip for future reference.” The girl offered him a shy smile, cheeks flushing pink, then took off, weaving between the beings on the walkway.

“Incredible,” remarked Asajj offhandedly. “Do you pick up admirers everywhere you go, or is it just when I’m around?” Obi-Wan snorted.

“My entire teaching lineage is a magnet for strays, I’m afraid.” he said with a rueful smile. 

The girl had been true to her word. 15 minutes after she’d ducked into the crowd, the troopers across the street started chattering to each other, their gloved hands tightening on their blaster grips. Across the table, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. The Force tightened around Asajj, like the air before a storm, and she heard a soft voice in the back of her head, whispering that she really ought to check out that explosion, because it could definitely be the fugitive-

She snapped her head around to stare at Obi-Wan, barely noticing as the Stormtroopers set off, leaving six behind to guard the Spaceport entrance. As he stood up and offered her a hand, she asked, incredulous,

“Did you just mindtrick the whole street?” Obi-Wan shrugged. 

“No, not really. Just a suggestion, and a weak one at that. If they hadn’t just heard about our young friend’s distraction, it wouldn’t have done a thing.” 

“All the same, it was impressive. I suppose the media wasn’t completely pulling things out of its ass during the war.” At that, he laughed, and she smiled as well, anticipation swelling in her gut. 

They made their way across the street, eyes on the remaining troopers. As they walked, Asajj slipped her hands around her back to her lightsaber hilts, strapped to her back where they wouldn’t attract attention. Beside her, Obi-Wan released the catch on his wrist holster, silver hilt dropping into his palm.

“Ready?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth as the troopers turned toward them. Asajj didn’t say anything, but she did smile, a wide, predatory smirk. 

“Hey! I need to see your papers!” called the lead Stormtrooper, stepping in front of them. 

“Will this do?” asked Asajj, holding her ‘saber out, emitter first. The poor idiot actually leaned in to look at it, so she obliged him, flicking the switch. With a snap hiss, the blood red blade went through helmet, skull, and brain matter, and the trooper dropped soundless to the walkway. Asajj was already moving away before he hit the ground, snapping a kick into the next man’s chest. The armor, cheap shit that it was, buckled under her Force-assisted blow, and he staggered back, gasping. She pressed her advantage, lunging forward and driving her lightsaber through his stomach. She was vaguely aware of Obi-Wan to her left as she spun right, away from the two dead Stormtroopers and toward their companion, who was rattling their coordinates off into his helmet comm. She blocked his first two shots, her ‘saber a red blur in front of her. The third, she sent back into his unprotected neck, and he fell with a gurgle to the pavement. 

Less than 10 seconds had passed since she’d turned her lightsaber on. 

“Come on, then.” said Obi-Wan, a faint look of distaste pulling the corners of his mouth down as he looked up from the three men he'd killed. Typical Jedi. Asajj rolled her eyes and followed him into the Spaceport. 

Five minutes later, a charcoal grey Aggressor Assault fighter blasted out of the Coronet Spaceport. Anyone watching from the planet’s surface might have noticed that it was going rather faster than necessary for a takeoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, new chapter! Exams are consuming my soul, but this was rattling around my head, so I'm posting it! Enjoy, and please leave me comments! I like to know what you guys are thinking!


	4. Mutual Annoyance is Almost Like Love, Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin does some detective work, Leia makes a friend, and Malefus closes in.

10 BBY. Nar Shaddaa

The Meltdown Café was something of a landmark on Nar Shaddaa’s main Strip. Being Nar Shaddaa, though, the Meltdown’s landmark status was due more to its popularity with lowlifes than any culinary achievement. At all hours of the day, the Meltdown was full of hooded figures and rough looking spacers, all conversing in either hushed tones or drunken yells. Put simply, the place was a cesspit, and not even the Hutt security who policed the moon would venture in unless specifically asked to. Ordinarily, one could start a fight in the place before noon and no one other than the combatants would so much as spare a glance. Its regulars, particularly one Ami Trra, found the low-level violence sort of cathartic. 

So, when one of the many hooded figures in the café slammed a drunk Weequay against the wall, forearm pressed against his throat, it was a testament to the sheer brutality of the gesture that anyone looked up at all, let alone the entire café. And perhaps it wasn’t the act itself that so upset the Meltdown’s clientele, but the odd charge in the air, almost like the pressure change before a thunderstorm, but this charge seemed to promise something more sinister than bad weather. Whatever it was, Ami was riveted. 

Hooded Guy was talking now, but Ami couldn’t hear him over the soft gasps permeating the bar. What she did hear though, was the Weequay’s answer, choked and desperate:

“I-I don’t know!” This time, she and everyone else in the bar heard Hooded Guy snarl:

“Wrong answer, sleemo.” He drew back his free hand. The unfortunate Weequay flinched.

“Wait, wait! I do know he runs Spice through Keldabe, on Mandalore! That’s all I know, please believe me.” The Weequay cut off with a strangled whimper. Across from Ami, the bartender was reaching for his comm, probably to call Hutt security. Damn. This had been the most exciting thing to happen in Ami’s life since her last job. She was tempted, actually, to see how Hooded Guy would handle the Hutt’s muscle, but it wasn’t to be. Apparently satisfied with the Weequay’s answer, he stepped back, allowing the other being to slink back to the bar. Without further ado, the hooded man turned in a dramatic swirl of dark fabric and stalked toward the door. As he swept past her table, Ami, being less than a meter tall, caught a glimpse under his cowl. Just a glimpse, though, because the look in his blue eyes made her jerk back as if burned, which was strangely appropriate because, in that moment she could have sworn the man’s eyes had flashed the bright amber of a glowing coal.

What Ami did not see, so preoccupied was she with the spectacle, was the terrified eight-year-old who’d watched the scene with wide eyes and followed the hooded figure out of the Meltdown.

**

Leia’s hands were shaking. 

That observation was an abstract one, but the horror that washed over Anakin was most decidedly not. Oh, Force, what had he done? As he felt his daughter’s fear creep through their bond, a harsh burning cold against his mind, Anakin’s legs very nearly went out from under him. His gut was twisting, echoing his mind’s horrified recoil from what he’d just done. In front of Leia.

He’d _forgotten_. He’d forgotten how easy it came, running through his veins like the lightning it conjured.

“Dad?” Leia asked. Her voice shook, almost more of a sob than a word, and any strength he’d had left was gone. Anakin’s knees hit the duracrete ground in front of Leia’s boots. He couldn’t bring himself to look into her face, to see the fear that he knew was there.

His daughter was afraid of him. And, worse, she was probably right to be. 

“Dad?” Leia grabbed his jacket, fingers twisting into the synthleather. “Dad, say something!” It was the edge of panic on her words that finally cut through the white wall of screaming emotion in Anakin’s head. 

“Leia,” the name was barely there, more of a breath than anything else, but her fingers tightened on his jacket. Anakin dragged his eyes up to meet hers, dark and glittering with unshed tears. “Leia, I am so sorry.” His voice was cracking all over the place, but he needed to tell her, needed her to know. She watched him for a moment, her emotions a confused tangle in the Force. He could see the questions in her eyes, and he waited for her to ask them, wondering what the hell he could even say. 

In the end, though, she only had one.

“Are you okay now?” His throat closed up, too tight to speak, so he nodded instead, and pulled her into a tight hug, blinking away tears. 

They stayed there for a long moment, kneeling on the sidewalk of the Nar Shaddaan Strip. By the time Anakin stood up again, his knees weren’t shaking anymore, and Leia’s mind was calm, her fear dissipating into the Force. Behind them, the café had all but forgotten the incident, with the sole exception of Ami Trra, who would go on to tell her story to the Spacer lunch crowd before forgetting it as well. 

Anakin hadn’t forgotten. Not any of it, from the Weequay’s fear to the fury and disgust and something far too close to hatred for his comfort. And most especially not the look on Leia’s face when she’d walked out of the café.

Her expression haunted him the rest of the day and kept awake well into the night. And when he did finally sleep, he dreamed of ruined bantha-hide tents, littered with old bones and stained red.

Morning came too soon, but Leia, who was fast forgetting her fear in getting wrapped up in Being On An Adventure, did wonders for Anakin’s control. 

Now, if only childhood excitement could cure his desperate terror for his wife and son. 

_Mandalore_ , he told himself over and over, like meditation. 

He’d find her. There was no other option.

**

Han Solo wasn’t having the best week ever. And for a teenaged orphan who’d spent his entire life running cons for a violent space pirate, this was saying something. After jumping ship, after _everything_ , he’d gone and missed the Ylesian Dream. Missed it, by barely an hour, according to the dock manager. He couldn’t very well go back to Corellia, and he didn’t know a whole lot of planets to begin with, so here he was, on the Smuggler’s Moon, trying very hard not to starve to death. So far, Han had learned that the Strip was pretty ripe territory for a pickpocket, so long as you could pick your target. Since dawn, he’d made a good 100 credits. In fact, for a few hours, it almost seemed like his luck was turning around for the first time in his memory. 

So, of course, that was when it all went straight to hell. 

“Hey, brat! You cut my purse!” The yeller was a Trandoshan, and by the time Han turned around, he was pulling a blaster. With a loud yelp, Han threw himself flat to the duracrete sidewalk, and the shot whizzed overhead. There was a curse from behind him as it blazed through the crowd.

For Sith’s sake, he hadn’t even been the one to cut it. Kreth, who’d be dumb enough to steal from a Trandoshan? 

Cursing Nar Shaddaa and the Galaxy in general, Han tried to get to his feet, but the Trandoshan grabbed his ankle, claws digging in. Han made a desperate grab for the blaster in his other claw, heard a nasty crunch, missed the blaster, and banged his head on the ground for his trouble. 

As such, when the tiny blur smashed into the Trandoshan’s side, he hadn’t a hope of telling what it was. In fact, he didn’t even realize the lizard had let go of him until said tiny blur had stopped moving. The Trandoshan stumbled, thick arms pinwheeling, then turned his furious glare on Han’s small, blurry rescuer. 

What happened next was pure instinct. Han flung himself at the blur, knocking it sideways and away from the lizard’s blaster. At the same time, he made a wild grab for his own and, miraculously, actually managed to draw it. He rolled to the side and looked up to find the Trandoshan barreling toward him, claws raised and teeth bared. 

Han fired. The Trandoshan dropped like a stone, a smoking, glowing hole in the middle of his forehead. Breathing hard, and trembling with leftover adrenaline, Han looked over to his small ally, who was getting to her feet. By now, his vision had cleared a bit, enough to tell that his rescuer was a small brown-haired girl.

“What the kreth, kid?” he voice an octave higher than normal. “You coulda been vaped!” Immediately, her little face scrunched into the most imperious scowl Han had ever seen on anyone, let alone a child.

“You’re supposed to say thank you.” she said snidely. “I did just save your life.” Han snorted.

“I had it under control, Your Highness.” he growled. Her scowl got even more pronounced, and she opened her mouth again, but before she could say anything, a brown boot came down about three inches from Han’s face. Oh yeah. He hadn’t gotten up yet, having been preoccupied by the Galaxy’s Tiniest Princess. The boot’s owner, whose face Han couldn’t actually see without craning his neck, didn’t seem to notice him. Instead, whoever it was addressed the girl. 

“Leia, I told you to stay on the steps!” Han dragged himself into a sitting position as the little brat started talking. 

“I know, but he was in trouble! I saved his life!” said the kid, Leia, apparently. The boot’s owner looked down at Han, who thought about grinning, and decided against it as his head throbbed extra painfully. Oh yeah, this was definitely the worst week of Han’s life.

“How about you put that blaster back where it came from, kid.” said the man, with a pointed look at Han’s gun. Oh. Right. He’d forgotten he was holding it. Maybe he’d hit his head harder than he’d thought. He holstered the pistol and scrambled to his feet, only to sit back down again with a pained yelp, clutching at his abused ankle. The boot’s owner, who turned out to be a human male, dropped down to one knee, making Han jerk back reflexively. The man’s hands came up, palms out. Universal language for I’m Not Gonna Hurt You.

“That looks nasty.” he remarked, one blond eyebrow arching. Han blinked furiously, trying to get his eyes to stop watering. Trying for Mature and Unfazed, he shrugged. 

“’S’alright.” The man snorted.

“Like hell it is, but nice try, kid.” he said, reaching for Han’s ankle. Han jerked back again, too used to Shrike’s methods of ‘taking care’ of injuries to trust in the kindness of strangers. “Easy, I’m not gonna hit you.” said the blond man. “But I know from experience that Trandoshans don’t like to wash their claws, and I’ve got a medkit in my bag. What do you say?” He grinned, warm and easy smile that Han had certainly never seen on Garris Shrike’s face. “Besides, Leia here’d feel bad if you took off and died of blood poisoning after she went to the effort of saving you.” he added, totally deadpan. Not exactly sure what was happening, Han found himself nodding and accepting a hand up. 

Ten minutes later, he was sitting against a low wall, wincing as his new acquaintance (he’d learned that word from Dewlanna) prodded gently at his injured ankle.

“Saved his life, huh? I’m sensing a story there.” said the man-Anakin, he’d said his name was- looking from Han to the kid. Han shrugged.

“I woulda been fine.” he muttered. “’Sides, I saved hers right back.” Under the man’s arm, Her Royal Brattiness stuck out her tongue, glowering at him. Above her head, the man’s mouth twisted up into another crooked grin. 

“Right.” he said, in a tone that said he didn’t buy that at all, not for one second. He pressed down lightly on Han’s ankle, sending a white-hot stab of agony up his leg. Han let out a strangled whimper before clamping his mouth shut. Nine hells, what was he, three? “Sorry about that.” said Anakin softly. “I think it’s broken.” Han groaned and thumped his head back against the wall. As it was still tender from its encounter with the sidewalk, he immediately regretted the action. Leia’s scowl softened, just a little.

“What’d you do that for, laser brain?” she asked. Han felt a strong urge to stick his tongue out at her. Maybe he was three.

“Sorry, Your Princessness, we don’t all have your royal smarts.” he snapped. He then shot a wary glance at Anakin, but the man wasn’t offended, in fact, he seemed to be trying not to laugh as he wrapped Han’s ankle in bacta bandages. 

Between the wrapping and the truly excellent painkillers, Han could stand up and limp around with only a little help. All the same, when Anakin offered to buy him a sandwich, Han, despite all his deeply ingrained mistrust and hard won independence, found himself agreeing. 

Besides, he hadn’t eaten since that last morning on Trader’s Luck, and that (blasters and Shyriiwook and “Run, Han, run”) had been almost two days ago.

**

Han Solo, or, as Leia preferred to call him, Laser Brain, was the most annoying person Leia had ever met. He’d spent the entire walk (or limp, in his case) to the diner calling her dumb names. (She’d called him names right back of course, but he was still stupid) 

The worst part of it was, Dad thought it was _funny_. He was trying really, really hard not to let her see, but his shields had been poodoo ever since the café incident that Leia was very carefully not thinking about and she could feel his mental chuckles all the way down the Strip. 

As it turned out, Laser Brain was also really, really hungry. So far, he’d inhaled two sandwiches without even pausing for breath. Leia started to scrunch up her nose at his manners, but Dad nudged her with his elbow. _Leave him alone, Princess_ , whispered his mind, and underneath the words was an image- a blond boy, small for his age, who went to bed without dinner every time he lost Watto money-Leia tugged her mind away, because that was Dad’s past, from back when he’d lived on Tatooine as a kid, and Dad didn’t talk about that, _ever_. Searching for something else to think about, Leia remembered what Dad had been doing in the bar while she’d been saving Laser Brain’s life.

“Did you find a ship, Dad?” she asked.

“Well, Princess,” said Dad, as Laser Brain ( _Han_ , supplies her mind, despite her best efforts) finally looked up from his plate. “I think we’re stuck here at least another day, unless your young friend here can pull one out of thin air.” Leia snapped:

“He’s not my friend!” just as the boy said:

“Funny you mention that, because I do know of a place.” Dad raised his eyebrow, scar stretching. “You can’t exactly buy a ship there, but you can win one.” Leia opened her mouth to say how incredibly dumb an idea _that_ was, but Dad beat her to it.

“Win one?”

“Yeah,” said Han, with a wide, lopsided smile. “If you’re any good at Sabacc, that is.”

**

10 BBY. Just Out of Range of Nar Shaddaan Sensor Range. 

First Lieutenant Firmus Piett was very fervently wondering what he’d done in his 29 years of life to deserve this job. On the surface, it seemed fairly impressive; _Inexorable_ ’s Bridge Crew was highly competitive, after all, what with it being 8th Fleet’s flagship. Indeed, it would seem that Lieutenant Piett’s career was on a fast track and, before joining the ship’s crew less than a week ago, Firmus had thought so too. 

Now, though, he was more than a little afraid he wouldn’t make it to his next assignment, let alone to the rank of Admiral.

Above his head, Lord Malefus was stalking back and forth along the Bridge, as if it would make the warship go faster. Honestly, Firmus had no idea what they were even after, other than ‘a fugitive of top priority to His Majesty.’ That was all the information Bridge Crew had been given as to why their ship had been appropriated by a Sith Lord.

Now that he’d met one, Firmus was entirely convinced that he never wanted to work with a Sith ever again. Malefus had been on the ship exactly 24 hours, and three crew members were already dead. The third, an unfortunate young ensign who’d just delivered a set of orders from Grand Moff Tarkin, was being removed from the Bridge above Firmus’ head, the lightsaber wound in his chest still glowing. 

One thing was clear, Lord Malefus was frustrated. He’d interrogated a number of Tatooinian citizens after the chaos surrounding the explosion on the planet’s surface and come back with a sharp grin twisting his mouth, but whatever had been on the poor ensign’s datapad had sapped all of the Dark Lord’s good humor. 

“You!” snapped the Sith, cultured voice snapping like a whip across the silent bridge. “Comms officer! Get me a report on Imperial forces in this sector.” Firmus’ heart jumped into his throat, but he jumped out of his seat and snapped to attention all the same.

“There’s not much here, m’Lord, but 4th and 6th fleets are both within a two hour jump, and there is a standard Imperial Garrison on Y’toub.” Malefus’ pacing halted, he looked down at Firmus, odd golden eyes appraising. The Lieutenant’s heart beat a quick tattoo against his sternum.

_Unholy gods, I should never have enlisted, never have left Axxila. I should-_

“Thank you, Lieutenant-“

“Piett, Sir!” squeaked Firmus.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Piett. That was most- competent.” With that, Malefus turned to Captain Atrela. “Prep my Interceptor. I want this done quietly.”

Breathing a shuddering sigh of relief, Firmus looked down at his desk Chrono. Four hours until his shift ended. 

It couldn’t come soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by Han Solo playlists on 8tracks. I know, it's been a few weeks, but I did finally get this done, and I have the rest of the story plotted out now, too, so hopefully chapters will come a little faster from now on! As always, let me know what you think, your reviews give me life!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke makes some new friends. Padmé does not. Bail doesn't know what he's done to deserve this.

10 BBY. Abregado-Rae. City of Abregado-Rae Spaceport.

By the time Luke’s first (and last, incidentally) morning on Abregado-Rae rolled around, he was tired of Being on an Adventure. It had been fun last night, sure, as he and Sabé had walked through the city's brightly lit streets. Everything was so busy, just like Coruscant, but on Abregado, there was actual ground instead of duracrete walkways and speeder traffic. Sabé had kept her hand on her blaster the whole way to the hotel, her brown eyes flickering all across the streets. All in all, Luke had felt like the hero of the Holo program he and Mom watched on the weekends.

Oddly enough though, Intergalactic Secret Agent Satam never had nightmares about pirates and what they might be doing to his mother. Luke, on the other hand, did. By the time the sun's rays peeked into their hotel room, Luke had barely gotten any sleep at all, he'd just tossed and turned all night. It was a relief when Sabé got a comm call at around 0600 and then rushed him out the door and to a street vendor’s stall for breakfast. Luke had no idea what was happening.

Still, thought Luke, as he ate a fruit turnover while Sabé checked over her blaster next to him, Abregado-Rae was kind of a cool place. There were beings of all shapes and sizes walking through its streets. It was nothing like Coruscant, or Naboo either. Here, the beings all had cool boots and blasters, and they all looked like something out of a movie or a comic book. Luke, a little bored with watching Sabé, had started making up stories about random passersby. He’d just decided that the Devaronian across the street was actually an undercover secret agent hunting Rebels (Mom said they did that) when two beings approached his and Sabé’s table. Sabé’s head snapped up, but she relaxed almost immediately. Luke couldn’t help but stare at the two. One was human, and he looked incredibly familiar, but Luke couldn’t figure out why. The other was a tall, slim Rattataki female, her ice blue eyes flitting back and forth around the crowded street. She carried no weapons, that Luke could see anyway, but Something prickled prickled nervously in the back of his head every time he looked at her.

“He didn’t say he was sending you.” said Sabé, sounding a little annoyed. Luke, who was a little in awe of Sabé and her ability to ignore the _dangerousdark_ dripping off of the Rattataki, dragged his attention back to her companion. The human chuckled.

“Apologies, Sabé.” he said, inclining his head. “Any deception was strictly necessary, I assure you.” Now, his warm grey eyes (like melted silver) flicked to Luke. “Hello there, Young One.” Sabé scowled, but she gave Luke a nudge. Remembering Mom’s words, Luke racked his brain for a good fake name. 

“I-I’m, uh, Ruwee.” he said. Ugh, that was no good. “Ruwee Nertie. Sabé’s my mom.” he added quickly, trying to cover himself. The man didn’t even raise an eyebrow at Luke’s obvious deception. He just kept smiling. 

“Nice to meet you, Ruwee. My name’s Ben.” Luke summoned up a smile, but his attention was mostly on the Rattataki woman and the strange aura she gave off. She reminded him a little bit of Lord Malefus, actually. As a result, it was taking all of Luke’s self control not to crawl into a hole and hide. “Ah,” added Ben, who had noticed his staring. “This my friend.” Luke noticed that he didn’t give a name for her.

“Come on, _Ben_.” growled the woman, finally looking at her friend. “We’re out in the open here, I don’t like it.” Luke looked up at Sabé, not sure what to do. She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Luke thought she was nervous, but she might have just been angry. With Sabé it was hard to tell.

“Come on, Ruwee.” she said. “We’re going on a little trip to meet some of your mom’s friends, alright?” It wasn’t alright, _nothing_ was alright, but Luke nodded like it was, all the same. 

Their new acquaintances led the way to a docking bay, marked with a faded 64. What waited there was almost enough to make Luke feel excited again, like he had the night before. It was sleek, dark grey and fast looking, and Luke could see its laser cannons from the bay entrance. In short, it was the average eight-year-old aspiring pilot’s dream ship. In fact, Luke was so in awe, he completely forgot how scary the Rattataki woman was. 

“What is that?” he asked. He was too busy staring at the fighter to see Asajj Ventress’ smirk, but he did hear her answer. 

“It’s an Aggressor.”

“It’s yours?” asked Luke. “It’s totally astral!”

“You’ve got a nice eye, for a little kid.” she said. The sneer in her voice made Luke remember why he hadn’t been talking to her before now, and he swallowed his retort. Instead, he shrugged and fixed his eyes on the floor, determined to be serious, like Mom wanted. 

“Shall we?” said Ben, somewhere over Luke’s head. He guessed Sabé agreed, because she placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him gently toward the ship’s gangway, now descending to the bay floor. Luke walked obediently to the ship and climbed aboard behind Ben. The nameless Rattataki had already strapped herself into the pilot’s seat. Ben settled down next to her, leaving Luke and Sabé to take two of the back seats. Apparently, Ben had been waiting to get aboard before he explained anything, because he turned to look at Sabé as the ship lifted off the ground, engines humming eagerly. 

“It’s good to see you again, Sabé.” he said with a smile. Sabé didn’t smile back.

“I thought you were dead, Master Jedi.” she said flatly. Luke snapped his head up to stare at her. There was a snort from the pilot’s seat, and Ben opened his mouth, but Luke interrupted, all thoughts of being a Serious, Stoic, Grown-Up gone. 

“You’re a Jedi?!” he exclaimed. “But the Jedi are gone!” Jedi were criminals, traitors to the Old Republic, but Luke was not afraid. After all, he supposed, Mom had almost been arrested by the Emperor, right? Clearly, not all criminals were bad news. Ben raised one gingery eyebrow at Sabé, who shrugged.

“What? Until yesterday afternoon, I thought you were dead, Master Kenobi. Padmé didn’t tell me or the boy anything.” Under normal circumstances, Luke might have taken issue with the anger in Sabé’s voice when she said Mom’s name, but as it was, he had been completely sidetracked. 

“Master Kenobi?” he asked, voice shooting up an octave. “As in General Obi-Wan Kenobi?” The Jedi sighed. 

“Yes, Luke.” he said softly, sending panic through Luke’s veins. How could he know who Luke was? Could Jedi read minds? Maybe he ought o be afraid of Ben-no, _Obi-Wan_ after all. 

“Calm down, Young One.” said the Jedi, and a gentle wave of exactly that washed over Luke, quieting his mind and warming his blood. “I am a very good friend of your mother’s. I’ve known her nearly as long as Sabé has.” And Sabé hadn’t tried to shoot him yet, so Luke supposed he was telling the truth.

“Did Mom tell you about me?” he asked, for surely that was the only way the Jedi could know his name. 

“She didn’t have to.” said General Kenobi with another smile. “I was there with her when you were born.” Luke was too busy processing the fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi had probably held him as a baby to see the man open his mouth again, only for Sabé to shake her head sharply and mouth “not now” at him. Luke focused in time to see the Jedi shrug. He then proceeded to grill Sabé about what had happened on Coruscant and with the pirates. Luke, who didn’t really want to think about any of that, chose to look through the viewport at the stars. The Rattataki pilot glanced back at him once, but she didn’t say anything. Luke watched until the ship pulled free of Abregado-Rae’s gravity well and the Rattataki sent it into hyperspace.

**

Luke seemed exhausted, and Sabé took him to a bunk barely half an hour after the ship entered hyperspace. While she was gone, Obi-Wan took a few deep breaths in lieu of meditation. Padmé’s old friend was very clearly angry, and he was not exactly looking forward to her return without Luke’s presence as a buffer. Beside him, Asajj rolled her eyes. 

“You’re telling me that’s the Hero With No Fear’s son?” she asked. “He’s wimpy.” she smirked. “Then again, I always thought Skywalker was overrated.” Obi-Wan scowled at her. 

“He’s eight, Ventress.” he said. “And you know full well that Anakin is nothing if not brave.” She laughed. 

“Touchy.” she said. “Just a joke, Kenobi. You ought to be used to me by now.” Obi-Wan found himself grinning.

“Yes, well, you still mange to surprise me from time to time.” They sat in companionable silence until Sabé returned, shutting the cockpit door behind her. The small brunette dropped into her seat with a heavy sigh. 

“Right.” she said. “What the kreth is a Sith doing with you?” Asajj’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Fearing a catastrophe, Obi-Wan said quickly,

“She’s no Sith, and Palpatine would like very much to kill her.” Asajj let out her breath, and Obi-Wan continued. “She was living on the same planet that I chose to settle on. As we are no longer on opposing sides of a war, we saw no reason that we couldn’t be allies.” Asajj snorted at his word choice, but Obi-Wan was not about to get into details of his sex life with Sabé Vertie. “Now, what do you know?” Sabé didn’t look ready to let the issue of Asajj’s presence go, but she crossed her arms and sighed.

“I know about Padmé and Skywalker, and that Luke has a twin sister. I also know that Bail Organa and Mon Mothma started some sort of resistance movement, and that they can give Luke and I shelter. She wanted us to go to Mothma on Dac.” Obi-Wan nodded.

“I can do you one better.” he said. “We can take you to Senator Organa. His position is better hidden than Senator Mothma’s.” Sabé nodded. 

“Alright. Luke’s safety is what’s most important. What are your Rebels doing about Padmé?” Obi-Wan sighed. 

“The last I heard, Bail was putting out feelers to try and find the pirates that captured her ship. From what Bail said, I suspect Anakin will be looking for her as well, once Leia’s somewhere safe.” At Sabé’s questioning look, he elaborated; “Luke’s sister.” She frowned.

“Surely Organa’s not allowing that? If the Empire gets its claws on him-“ Obi-Wan nodded, forestalling her.

“You’re right. As soon as we drop you and Luke off, I’m going after him.” 

“As usual.” interjected Asajj, who was now sitting cross-legged in her chair, cleaning her lightsaber hilts. Obi-Wan hummed in agreement. “Hang on.” said Asajj. “Did you say Padmé hadn’t told you or Luke anything? Does that mean-“

“He doesn’t know.” she said. “Any of it. All Padmé told him was that she’s a fugitive from the Empire because she disagrees with Palpatine. He doesn’t know about Rebels, or the Purges, or who his father is.”

“Damn.” said Obi-Wan, stroking his chin. It was still a habit, though he'd been clean-shaven for eight years now. “That complicates things.”

“Yes, that’s one way of putting it.” Sabé’s tone implied that her preferred method of putting it involved quite a bit more profanity than Obi-Wan’s had. 

“What shall we say, then?”

“We’ll tell them what he told you.” she said, after a moment’s consideration. “His name is Ruwee, and he’s my son.” Mildly relieved, Obi-Wan nodded, and Sabé went on. “Viceroy Organa and Mon Mothma will know, of course, but if we dye his hair, we ought to fool everyone else. As few people as possible should know who he is before he does, after all.”

“Can’t you just tell him about Skywalker?” asked Asajj, rolling her eyes. 

“I don’t think it’s my place.” said Sabé. “If Padmé didn’t tell him, there must be a reason, right?”

“Indeed.” said Obi-Wan quickly. “And with any luck, she’ll be back before anyone has time to wonder about him. Now, that’s settled. We’ve about seven hours in hyperspace before we reach our destination. We just need to explain to Luke what’s expected of him when we get there.”

Sabé left the cockpit soon after, and Asajj turned to Obi-Wan.

“Don’t think you’re fooling me, you coward.” she said. “Whatever her reasons are, _you’re_ just trying to avoid telling the brat that his mother’s been lying to him his whole life.” Obi-Wan smiled ruefully.

“You know me too well, my darling.”

**

10 BBY. Florrum.

Honestly, Padmé supposed, she was having a fairly lucky day. After all, Hondo Ohnaka was an immensely preferable host compared to either of the Galaxy's Sith Lords. Also, she’d been kidnapped by quite possibly the only criminal mastermind in said Galaxy who had a sense of honor. The Hutt Council, for example, would almost certainly have thrown her to the Imperial Navy if it had shown up on their doorstep.

Now, this was all true when thought about rationally, but Padmé Naberrie Amidala Skywalker was (understandably) not in the most rational mood. In fact, as she was wearing utterly filthy pirate rags, her hair was in painfully tight braids, and she was currently seated on one Captain Ike Alatar’s lap, Padmé thought she was allowed to feel a little sorry for herself. 

Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. So much for being the picture of iron will in front of the pirates. 

Padmé had newfound sympathy for the Senate’s Organized Crime Task Force, if all criminal bosses were as good as Hondo. In less than an hour, the pirate and his men had completely hidden everything, from evidence of their illegal spice trade to the military grade black market weapons. Even Hondo’s rather impressive ship collection had been concealed beneath the compound. Hondo, in an effort to protect his own back, was committed to making sure the Empire didn’t find her in his compound. To this end, Padmé had traded her dusty, but still obviously high quality, gown for a pair of fatigue style pants, work boots, and a gray jacket with a wide hood, which she’d pulled low over her face. Between the clothes and her braided hair, she hoped she’d pass for one of the female weequay who frequented Hondo’s bar. 

The Empire didn’t bother knocking. One second, the bar was full of music and laughter, the next, it was full of smoke as the door blew off of its hinges. Stormtroopers poured through the gap, blasters at the ready. Hondo’s men leapt to their feet as one, but none of them were bold enough to draw guns on Imperial troops, to Padmé’s relief. Hondo remained seated at the bar, a drink in his hand. He looked for all the universe as though armed men broke down his door every day. 

“Ah, gentlemen!” he called, spreading his arms wide. “Welcome to Florrum. Would any of you care for a drink?”

“You’ll keep your mouth shut, Pirate, unless you want to spend tonight in our brig.” snapped a cold voice from behind the troopers. Padmé leaned forward a tad, just enough to see around Alatar’s outflung arm, praying to all the Goddesses that her luck would hold out.

A moment later, she breathed a sigh of relief. The officer who’d spoken was small and angular, with a face rather like a marsh rat. Most importantly, however, Padmé didn’t recognize him. She leaned back against Alatar’s chest, her heart racing. The big pirate captain, thankfully, didn’t seem to find her particularly attractive; he hadn’t so much as looked at her chest, let alone taken advantage of the fact that she was sitting on his lap. 

The rat-faced Imperial officer stalked forward, chest puffed out, past his troops and directly up to Hondo’s chair. As he passed her, one of the troopers turned his faceplate to her shadowed face. Padmé’s heart leapt into her mouth, but she resisted the urge to go for Alatar’s blaster, which was strapped to his leg, just a few inches from her left hand. After the longest moment of Padmé’s life, the trooper looked away again, turning his faceplate back to his superior’s gray back.

“Mr- Ohnaka, is it?” asked the officer, looking down his nose at Hondo, who deliberately spread his arms and smiled widely.

“Yes indeed. I am Hondo Ohnaka, the leader of this modest little trade outpost.” He leaned forward. “What, may I ask, is the nature of your very welcome visit?” The officer, whose insignia plate Padmé couldn’t see, smirked.

“I am here to establish a garrison on this world, in order to-ah-civilize it, in the name of our Emperor. Congratulations, Mr. Ohnaka.” Here, his smirk turned downright nasty. “You have just been afforded the protection of the Imperial Navy.” 

Hondo made a reply, but Padmé wasn’t listening anymore. Her heart was sinking. If the Empire was establishing a presence on Florrum, it would be highly difficult for her to escape. There was very little shipping traffic, which meant every ship that entered or left Florrum’s atmosphere would be subject to search, and nothing would fall through the cracks. Why, oh, why couldn’t Hondo have set up his pirating operation on a halfway-civilized world? 

Padmé sighed softly, and clenched her fists at her in her lap. 

She was trapped here, and the Empire hadn’t even had to _try_ to catch her. Somewhere, she was certain, Palpatine was laughing at her.

 

10 BBY. An Undisclosed Location in the Outer Rim.

Bail Organa leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Honestly, if anyone had told him 8 years ago how incredibly tedious it was to set up a viable resistance movement, he might have reconsidered doing it. As a senator, both under the Republic and the Empire, Bail had had a few informants on his payroll, but it was nothing, _nothing_ compared to the information network he was attempting to coordinate now. 

He had agents on most of the Empire’s newest colonies, reporting on troop movements and the needs of the population. What with Mon’s help, the Alliance generally had the money to send supplies and relief to the Empire’s victims. Bail balked at violence; Alderaani were a peaceful people, and Bail liked to think he was as well. However, there were rebel cells on several planets, most notably Bellassa, who frequently engaged in acts of terrorism against Imperial forces. Bail was in the process of gathering information about them, in the hope of combining forces.

He knew it was hypocritical, but Bail Organa needed these terrorist cells. He was a diplomat, a politician, a leader, yes, but not a soldier. Luckily, he did have a few friends who were. Jan Dodonna had already proved himself an invaluable strategist, and was in the midst of planning a coordinated strike against the Empire’s premiere shipyards at Tallaan. Likewise, Obi-Wan Kenobi was a truly gifted military commander.

Moral conflicts aside, when Bail thought of leading an armed resistance movement, he’d somehow never pictured the hundreds of requisitions, maintenance reports, and intelligence reports he’d have to sift through. He looked askance at his datapad. 56 messages unread, all with files attached, and that was just since he'd last checked. Heaving another sigh, Bail hunched over his desk and went back to work. 

He’d read for barely five minutes, though, when there was a knock at his office door. Grateful for the respite, Bail called in his visitor, who turned out to be a young boy, likely the child of an Alliance worker. The boy held out a datapad, and said breathlessly,

“Commander Larot asked me to bring this to you, sir, said you’d want to see it.” Bail smiled graciously, and took the pad from the boy. The message was from his chief of intelligence, its news made his heart lighten. 

_Our friend from 5th fleet has made contact. En route now to our location. Has some equipment we can make use of._

So, his compromised agent, the one who’d informed him about the leak just in time to warn Padmé, had gotten away clean. That, combined with his message from Obi-Wan that morning, made for a pretty good day. Both Luke and his friend were safe, and headed his way.

Now, if he could just find Padmé and Skywalker, both of whom could quite literally be anywhere in the Galaxy.

Feeling the beginning of a massive headache, Bail dismissed the boy, with a request that he ask the galley to send up a pot of tea. He had the feeling he’d need it, and maybe a splash of brandy as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes, I am alive, and this fic is too. This chapter is sort of fillery, and for that I apologize, but there will be action next time, I promise. Leave your comments, they fuel my soul.


	6. Never Count Your Chips Until You've Left the Sabacc Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han plays Sabacc and Leia is oddly Quiet.

10 BBY. Nar Shaddaa.

The Sabacc den, such as it was, had been set up in an abandoned warehouse near the space docks. Han had been in a quite a few card joints, both legit and illegal, in his ‘employment’ under Shrike, and this one was by far the seediest he’d ever seen. The only reassuring thought in his mind was that at least his ankle didn’t hurt anymore. Anakin’s bacta wrap was good stuff. Behind him, Her Tiny Majesty was practically radiating disgust, but her dad seemed at ease. In fact, he looked just like several of the spacers sitting at tables, with the exception of his eyes, which were clear and alert, rather than glazed over from spice, alcohol, or both. 

“Right,” said Anakin, tipping his head down so as not to be heard. “Who’s playing for a ship?” Han shrugged.

“Probably most of ‘em.” he said. “Look over there, see the holo?” he asked, with a surreptitious gesture at the nearest table, above which floated a holo of a small starfighter. “That’ll be what they’re playing for. What kinda ship do you want? The more expensive ones’ll be way harder games.” The man exhaled sharply through his nose, in a silent laugh. 

“Yeah, I got that.” His blues eyes flicked back and forth across the crowded warehouse, taking in the various games. “That one.” he murmured, with a nod towards a table in the corner, thrown into deep shadow. Han sighed. 

“It’s always the dark corner, isn’t it?” he muttered to himself. “Can you actually play Sabacc?” Anakin shrugged. 

“I’ve done it before.” 

“Okay, but where? Playin’ out here’ll be way different from in any halfway civilized place.” If this place was half as nasty as rumors said, the loser was likely to cheat, and then stab you when you beat them. 

“Shut up!” hissed the little brat. “People are staring.” She wasn’t exactly right, but a few of the less intoxicated patrons had started glancing their way, so Han stifled his response and started weaving between tables, toward the corner Anakin had indicated. 

The table was occupied by two players: a Sullustan male, and a curly haired human who looked to be a few years older than Han. As their little group approached, Anakin flipped the little brat’s hood up to cover her face. Not for the first time, Han wondered who was chasing them, because someone very clearly was. Probably the Hutts, if they were here. Still wondering what some spacer and his daughter could have done to piss the Hutt Council off, Han made to step aside to let Anakin sit down. Before he could take the step, though, his new acquaintance gave him a nudge between the shoulder blades, pushing him half a step toward the table. Han knew better than to look back, so he just shrugged and leaned over with a jaunty grin. 

“So, fellas, that’s a nice lookin’ ship.” he said. “Mind if I jump in?” The Sullustan’s wide eyes narrowed, glinting in the dim light, but the human leaned forward into the light of the holo with a wide grin of his own. 

“Sure,” he said, gesturing toward the empty seat across from him. “The more the merrier, I always say. Your friends are welcome to join, too.” His accent was very slightly Corellian. 

“Nah, I’m not much of a gambler.” said Anakin, shrugging. “He’s the one who enjoys the game.” Han grinned again, hoping it didn’t appear too forced, and slid into the proffered seat.

“House rules?” he asked, as the dealer droid spat his hand out at him. 

“Standard rules, Corellian Gambit.” grunted the Sullustan. Han nodded, and glanced down at his gently glowing cards. Not a half bad hand, but he’d need better if he wanted the ship. 

Four rounds later, Han was beginning to regret picking this table. The Sullustan was a shrewd player, and his natural features made it nearly impossible to read his facial expressions. However, the real problem was the other human. His laid-back demeanor masked a Sabacc demon, as it turned out. And as far as Han could tell, (and, being Corellian, Han had seen a lot of Sabacc) he wasn’t even cheating. He was just a damn good gambler. In fact, Han had never been so tempted to cheat himself. He’d never needed to before, but this guy was something else. 

It happened on the fifth round. Han drew a 13 and a 6, but on the shifting round, the card’s surface shimmered and shifted into, not the 10 that he needed, but a 7. 20. Just 3 points off. That was close, damn close. Maybe even close enough to win. The Sullustan laid his cards down with a disgusted noise. -24, a bomb out. Han had to grin at that. As he made to lay his own cards down, though, a thought popped into his head that most definitely did not belong to him. In fact, if thoughts had a sound, this one sounded remarkably like Anakin’s voice.

_Wait. Swap your 6 out. He has 22 in his hand, and the next card’s a 10._

Years of practice kept Han's face straight, which he thought was impressive, considering that the guy he’d met an hour ago was apparently telepathic. Wondering what the hell he'd gotten into, he swapped his cards out. Sure enough, the top card was a 10. Keeping his face a blank mask, Han laid his cards down. 

The effect was immediate. His opponent swore softly under his breath and dropped his own cards on the table. The 12 and 10 winked up at the players, almost tauntingly. The human sighed and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his dark curls. 

“Well, friend, looks as though you’ve won,” he reached for a pocket in his blue shirt and withdrew a small datachip. “Your ignition codes.” 

“You’ll forgive me if we ask you to come along and make sure they work, I’m sure.” said Anakin flatly.

“Of course, of course.” said the young man. “I’d think less of you if you didn’t. The docking bay’s just a few hundred meters from here. I’ll lead the way.” He rose, and then looked back over his shoulder at them. “Name’s Lando, by the way. Lando Calrissian.” He looked expectantly at the three of them. Han glanced surreptitiously around before answering. 

"Han Solo."

**

As the four of them walked to the boy’s hangar, Anakin’s gaze did not leave the back of Han Solo’s head. In warning him about the other boy’s winning hand, he’d given away his Force-sensitivity. From there, it wouldn’t take an intelligent kid like Solo long to figure out why he and Leia were so anxious to get off world. The Force seemed to like the kid, but Anakin had been fooled before, to devastating effect. 

They had a ship, but at what cost? He’d have to keep an eye on Solo, if possible. 

They walked in a loose group, with the two boys in front, and Anakin in the back. He didn’t dare take Leia’s hand. Out here on the street, it would attract too much attention, and he didn’t want to give Calrissian a reason to remember them. He wished he could, though. She’d been quiet the past few hours, ever since they’d walked into the Sabacc den, and he was beginning to worry about her. Feeling his worry through their bond, she looked up at him, eyes glinting under her wide hood, and offered him a halfhearted smile. 

“What’s the matter, Princess?” he asked softly. 

“I dunno,” said Leia. “Just feel like something’s wrong, or maybe gonna be wrong soon?” she frowned. “I can’t tell. Just don’t feel right.”

“Okay.” said Anakin, squeezing her shoulder gently. “We’ll be careful, I promise.” She smiled again, small, but genuine this time. 

Calrissian had told the truth; his docking bay wasn’t far from the old warehouse turned Sabacc den. As for the ship, it looked decidedly decrepit. 

“What is this thing, anyway?” asked Han as they approached.

“It’s a modified YT-1300.” said the young gambler. “She doesn’t look like much, I’ll grant you, but she’s been well looked after, and she’s the fastest ship in the Outer Rim. Handles like a dream, too, if you treat ‘er right.” And actually, now that Anakin looked, really looked at the ship, she was a bit of a beauty. In the Force, he could see how well her parts worked together, as if they she were a whole, rather than individual pieces. 

“She’ll do,” he said. “assuming your chip actually works.” The boy grinned, teeth very white against his dark skin. 

“Jeez, you guys are paranoid.” he said. “If I agreed to come with you, you can assume I’m being honest with you, right?”

“Whatever.” said Han. “Just show us the codes, huh?” 

“Right.” said Calrissian. “Here’s the engine sequence, and then you’ll be good to go, assuming you know how to charge up the hyper and the navis.” Anakin nodded in confirmation. Beside him, Leia gasped and grabbed for his hand.

“What is it?” he asked, dropping to one knee in front of her. Before she could say anything, though, he felt it; a sharp, freezing twist in the Force that made his stomach turn. A split second later, a starfighter, flying low and slow, screeched over the Nar Shaddaan space docks, green blaster bolts streaking from her guns. As it shot overhead, Anakin felt the unmistakable presence of the Sith from Tatooine. He’d found them. 

“Go!” he yelled, scooping Leia up in one arm and sprinting for the ship. He needn’t have shouted, though, the boys were already running. Green streaks of light tore chunks from the docking bay’s floor around them, and one impacted less than two feet from Calrissian, eliciting a high pitched yelp from the boy. The frieghter’s access ramp descended as they reached it, and the four of them boarded as the Sith’s fighter swung around for another pass. Him. The Sith was after him, not Leia, and not either of the boys. 

There was one thing, and only one, that he could do to protect his daughter. 

“Get her moving!” growled Anakin. It had been an order, straight from his days as a General, and Calrissian snapped to it, taking off down the narrow corridor toward the freighter’s cockpit. A few moments later, the ship’s systems blinked on, and a low hum filled the air as her engines cycled up. Now or never. 

Anakin turned to Han Solo. The boy was scared, but not panicking, and his hand was firmly on his blaster. A fighter, not a runner. That, combined with his Force-assisted intuition, would have to be enough. 

“Listen to me.” he said, too low for Leia to hear. Immediately, the boy’s attention snapped to him. “I can’t come with you, I have to deal with this guy or you won’t get off world.” Han didn’t argue. “The ship, this ship, it’s yours, just promise me you’ll take care of her, get her to my people. She’ll know how to find them.” Solo hesitated a moment, but he nodded, determination in his green eyes. 

Right, that was the easy part. Now, the harder one. 

Anakin knelt down beside Leia. She might never forgive him for this, but it didn’t make it any less necessary.

“Leia, I’m gonna lead him off, alright?” Her eyes went wide.

“What? Dad, no-“

“Shh, Princess. It’s the only way to make sure he doesn’t follow you. I need you to listen to me, okay? If anyone asks, you’re Leia Starseeker, just like on Tatooine, right?” She nodded, lip trembling, and he continued. “You remember Auntie Ahsoka, don’t you? And the comm frequencies?” Leia’s small fists clenched, and she nodded. “Go to her. She’ll look after you until I get back. Repeat the frequency number to me.” 

“Z-zero-zero-two-f-four-one.” she said, sniffling. Anakin nodded. “Okay. Stay with Han until you find Ahsoka, okay?” Leia sniffled, and smiled halfheartedly.

“The Force likes him.” she mumbled. Anakin grinned reflexively.

“Yeah, it does, huh? Alright, my little Princess, I gotta go, before he takes off. Be safe, I love you more than anything else in this whole Galaxy, and I _will_ see you again, I swear.” Leia nodded, eyes brimming with tears.

“You better.” she said sternly. Anakin pulled her tight against his chest, felt her tears on his jacket. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and, on reflex, shrugged the jacket off and wrapped it around her small shoulders. 

“So you won’t be cold,” he whispered. “May the Force be with you, Princess.” She said nothing in return, but stood, tears on her cheeks, and watched him go, his jacket huge on her slight frame. As the freighter’s engines rumbled, Anakin dove out of the closing access ramp, unclipping his lightsaber from his belt. He landed lightly on the duracrete landing pad, and dropped his shields, broadcasting his location to the fighter’s pilot. Immediately the ship pulled up, whipping around to make another pass by the docking bay, and Anakin sprinted for the main city, one thought running through his head.

_Come and get me, you Sith-blasted son of a Hutt._

**

The ship lifted off the ground just as Han reached the cockpit, where Calrissian was frantically activating the shields. 

“Come on, come on, come on baby, don’t let me down!” he muttered, gripping the controls tight. Han slid into the copilot’s seat. Behind him, Leia slipped into the cockpit as well, still draped in her dad’s jacket. 

Lando pulled the freighter’s nose up, almost straight up, and cleared the bay wall by meters, before firing the engines again and sending them rocketing away from the ground. Behind him, the starfighter pulled up hard, and whipped around, away from them and back toward the spaceport. Leia made a soft whimpering noise, and when she climbed up into the seat beside him, Han didn’t have the heart to snap at her. 

It was too wide for him, anyway.

Lando pulled the ship into a steep climb, headed for Nar Shaddaa’s atmosphere. Before they got more than a thousand meters, though, there was a telltale scream from behind them. TIEs, two of them. Han swore, and Lando fired the engines again, putting on a burst of speed.

“We’re coming up too fast, the transition-“ began Han.

“Yeah, we are.” growled the other boy. “Being a little uncomfortable here is better than being down there with those fighters, at least in my opinion. Get on the ventral quad cannon. It swivels 360 degrees.” Han nodded sharply, and slid from the seat. 

“Strap in, kid.” he murmured to Leia, and left the cockpit, not waiting to see if she listened. He took the ladder at more of a scramble than a climb, and pulled the headset on, noting distantly that it was too big for him. The gun’s screen flickered on as it charged up, and Han started firing. The TIEs were quick little things, but their outsized wings were a vulnerability, and within two minutes, Han had brought one down. 

_Don’t get cocky._ whispered the voice in his head that sounded a little like Shrike. 

There was still one more out there. 

Han kept firing. The guns were beautifully designed, and, under different circumstances, it would have been really fun to fire them. As it was, Han was two seconds away from panicking. A kid. He’d been given responsibility for a kid. Hells, he was a kid himself! How the Sith-blasted hells was he supposed to take care of an eight year old kid? And a girl at that? 

Nope, firing the beautifully crafted quad cannon was definitely a better use of his time than actually thinking. So that was what Han did, until the second TIE exploded into a shower of blasted metal. They were in space now, he realized. The stars winked gently around them.

Them, and the Star Destroyer currently deploying its fighters. Kreth, this day just kept getting better, didn’t it? He scrambled for the cockpit. 

“Please tell me you’re about to jump to hyperspace?” he said, gripping the back of Leia’s seat. 

“Yeah, navicomputer says 10 more seconds, then we’re good.” Han gripped the seat a little harder, his knuckles turning white. 

10 seconds later, as the first TIEs started blasting towards the freighter in earnest, Lando pulled the hyperspace lever. The sublight engines roared, and they left the fighters far behind.

**

Lando Calrissian breathed a sigh of relief, or several sighs, or, okay, he maybe hyperventilated just a little bit, as the stars stretched out around the Falcon, taking her away from the Star Destroyer. While he did his best to breathe normally again, the boy, Han Solo, he'd said his name was, slumped over the back of the Copilot’s seat in relief.

Beside him, the girl buried her face in her hands. 

“What happened?” asked Lando. “Where’s your friend?” There was no response from the girl, but the boy raised his head.

“Stayed behind to draw the fighter off.” He dropped into the Copilot’s chair beside the girl, who was now crying quietly into her hands. “Easy, kid,” he said softly, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “He’ll be fine.” 

“You don’t understand!” she cried. “They’ll kill him if they catch him, that’s the whole reason that guy was here!” She paused to take a deep, shuddering breath. “He’s been chasing us since Tatooine.” she finished miserably. Lando felt for her, he really did. Poor kid was maybe 8, and out here all alone. It was no life for a little girl. 

“Where are we headed?” asked the boy. 

“Mid Rim. Planet called Axxila. After that though, the ship’s yours. You won ‘er, fair and square.” 

“I have to call her.” said the girl shakily. Her tears had dried now, but her hands were still shaking. 

“Who?” asked Solo. 

“My Aunt. One of Dad’s friends, he wanted me to go to her. Her name’s Ahsoka.” 

“Well, that’s settled then,” said Han. “We’ll go to Axxila, let Lando here get back to his life, and then we’ll call your dad’s friend.” He squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “We’re gonna be okay, Your Highness.” She scowled.

“’M not a princess. ‘M just Leia.” She tucked the overlarge jacket more firmly around herself. Lando dropped against the back of the seat with a sigh. 

What a day. He was definitely going to miss his business appointment. Damn, that Mandalorian bounty hunter was gonna be _pissed_ , too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, new chapter! I got two for you tonight, actually, because I feel so incredibly guilty about neglecting this. As always, please leave comments, they fuel my soul and muse!


	7. Treason, of the Highest Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arana chooses a side. Rex comforts Ahsoka.

10 BBY. Mandalore, Capital city of Keldabe.

Niro Arana was a Commander in the best Special Operations force the Galaxy had to offer, had graduated top of his class from the Empire’s elite Spec Ops Training Academy, was trained in countless interrogation techniques, and had worked under the second most dangerous man in the Galaxy for the past three years.

So why, _why_ couldn’t he stop his hands from shaking as he walked down his own cell block? 

Perhaps because in approximately 10 minutes, he was going to become a traitor and in, at most, 20 minutes, he’d be marked for death by the very military he’d served in for 6 years. 

This was what he got for having a conscience. 

He’d prepared, at least. The night after his call from Tarkin, Arana had stayed up plotting his betrayal. The obvious choice, of course, was to release Ahsoka Tano and her band of insurgents from prison and join their movement. They wouldn’t want him to, but he had collateral, an offer they’d be stupid to refuse. He’d thought about destroying the Command Center, too, but he didn’t want to kill the men who worked under him. They, like him, were mostly pawns in the Emperor’s game. He remained convinced that the Empire itself wasn’t inherently evil, merely incredibly mismanaged and taken advantage of by sadistic tyrants like Tarkin. And Malefus. Arana was going to enjoy spitting in Malefus’ face, if nothing else. Take that, three years of impossible tasks and ridicule. 

Tano’s cell was near the middle of the cell block, and Arana dismissed the guards easily. It was standard interrogation procedure, after all. When they’d gone, he activated the jammer in his uniform pocket. The cameras would malfunction for about half an hour before his technicians could reset them, he knew from experience. Finally, Arana took a deep breath. This was it; the point of no return. If he pushed the access button, he was a traitor. There would be no going back. 

He clenched his fists, and pushed it. The door slid open with a strangely nondescript hiss.

**

Ahsoka was leaning against the back wall, trying to come up with a viable escape plan, when the heavy door slid open. Immediately, she sat up straight, lifting her chin and schooling her expression into careful blankness. It was Arana, the Commander who’d interrogated her twice already over the past three days.

“What can I do for you today, Commander?” she asked mockingly. Then, she took a second look at him. This was not the calm, put together man who’d so politely threatened Zatt and Rex. Today, he was pale and shaky, sweat turning his face and neck shiny under the harsh lights. He let the door hiss shut behind him, and then approached her slowly, the scent of, not fear, but nerves, permeating the cell. When he reached her, he said nothing, though he did swallow nervously, adam’s apple bobbing. Ahsoka cocked her head to the side and waited to see what he’d do next. 

He surprised her by pulling a chip from his pocket and slipping it into the slot in her Force Suppressor cuffs. They immediately snapped apart, and he pulled them gently from her aching wrists. 

She didn’t waste any time. The moment her hands were free, she dropped, planting her palm against the durasteel floor and twisting, throwing a hard kick into his jaw. He flew backwards, and, using her momentum, Ahsoka launched herself at him, her knee slamming into his chest just before he hit the ground. She crouched low over the officer’s prone body and pressed her forearm to his windpipe, as he blinked dazedly. 

“What,” she hissed, “do you think you’re playing at?” He made a croaking noise, and she lessened the pressure of her arm on his throat. 

“I-I’m breaking you out.” he said hoarsely. Ahsoka was so astounded that she actually sat up a bit. It didn't take long to figure out what he must be up to, though. She narrowed her eyes.

“So I’ll lead you to my friends? Think again, Imperial scum!” she snarled. 

“No-no, I’m betraying the Empire.” he said. At that moment, she noticed his blaster, strapped to his thigh and well within reach since she’d straightened up. He hadn’t gone for it. “Use the Force, Jedi. You’ll see that I’m telling the truth.” And yes, now that her control was coming back in little threads, she could feel the truth of his words. Hesitant, she stood up and backed up a few steps. 

“Why?” she asked, her voice coming out unsure as a Youngling. Arana scrambled to his feet. 

“Your friend. The Zabrak boy. He-he’s dead. Grand Moff Tarkin personally congratulated me on capturing him.” A stab went through Ahsoka’s heart, but she’d already known, really, the second he’d been shipped off to Palpatine. 

“That’s how your Empire does things, Commander.” she said softly. He nodded, unable to meet her gaze.

“I know. I understand that now. I thought-before-I-It doesn’t matter. I understand now. You were right. I didn’t know which side I’d chosen, but now I do. I see that boy’s face every time I close my eyes.”

“Mashan.” she said, coldly calm. “His name was Mashan Armess.” Arana, for the first time since he'd walked into her cell, met her eyes, all hard determination.

“I’m breaking you out, and I want to join your rebel group.” Ahsoka laughed. 

“It doesn’t work like that, Imp. I believe you’re not trying to set me up, but that doesn’t mean I trust you. Not by a long shot.” He nodded again.

“I didn’t expect you to. And you don’t have to, but I have information that will help you. Information on the Command here that could cripple it, and potentially, much of the Special Ops network at large.” Ahsoka crossed her arms. They couldn’t really afford not to take his information. Keldabe was blown, they’d have to leave, but if his intel was good, Senator Organa would definitely need it. Arana wasn’t finished yet, either. “There’s more. For the past three years, my direct superior has been Lord Malefus himself. I know things about him, things that could help. And more, I can give you intelligence that the Empire is desperate to keep hidden. Tarkin told me yesterday when he congratulated me. Exactly what they learned from the b-from Mashan.” 

That clinched it. The Rebellion had to know what Palpatine had ripped out of Mashan’s head. 

“Alright,” she said with a sigh. When we leave, we’ll take you with us. But I’m not leaving without my friends and my lightsabers.” 

“Of course not.” said Arana, and a sly smile crept across his face. “I have a plan.” 

“That’s what I like to hear.” said Ahsoka, with a smile of her own. 

“Come on. The cameras will be out down here for another 25 minutes or so. We need to be gone by then.” 

“How are we going to get past the troopers?”

“There aren’t any down here, I sent them off, and as for the rest of the base, don’t worry about it. I told you, I have a plan.” He ducked out of the cell, and Ahsoka followed, massaging her wrists. Arana led her to Zatt’s cell first. Now that the Force binders were gone, she could feel the boy’s presence, like a cool, calm lake of water against her mind. 

“You didn’t put binders on him?” she asked, confused. He cast her a startled look over one shoulder.

“No, of course no- he’s a Jedi too?” Ahsoka grinned. 

“Yeah.” Arana’s eyes widened. 

“No wonder your cell’s been so gods-damned hard to track down!” he hissed. “And here I was, thinking I’d lost all my training, being outsmarted by children!”

“To be fair,” said Ahsoka, as he unlocked Zatt’s cell. “You were still being outsmarted by children. The youngest person in my cell is 16.” 

“Well, yes,” he said. “But Jedi children are an entirely different kettle of giju from normal ones.” The cell door opened with a hiss, revealing Zatt’s wide eyes. He was immediately on his feet and glaring at the officer, and Ahsoka stepped quickly into the cell to diffuse the tension.

“Easy. He’s with us.” she said, holding up her hands. Zatt eyed her for a few moments, suspicious, but then his shoulders relaxed.

“Okay.” He followed them out into the corridor, glancing nervously at the cameras. Ahsoka undid his binders. 

“He’s jamming them.” she explained.

Rex’s cell, it seemed, was on the far end of the block, well away from the corridor leading out to the rest of the base. Arana unlocked the door, and this time, Ahsoka made sure she entered first. Zatt, an excellent Jedi, was not at all aggressive. Rex, on the other hand, was a soldier, a fighter before anything else.

“Hey, Rex.” she said, grinning. “We’re busting out of this joint. Care to join us?” His answering grin was bright as the stars, despite the tired shadows under his eyes.

“You know me, Sir, always up for ruining the Empire’s day.” He stood, and followed her into the corridor. He stopped short when he saw Arana, but he didn’t say anything, just looked at her for confirmation.

“He’s good.” Rex nodded sharply, and took the rear position of their group. 

“Weapons?” he asked. 

“This way.” said Arana. “Normally, they’d be up in the armory, but in your case, I-ah- thought they’d be safer down here." He grinned like a nexu who'd caught a bird. "I had them moved yesterday.” He opened the very last cell in the block, and sure enough, there was a set of Phase II GAR armor, four ‘saber hilts, three blaster pistols, and two well-worn deecees in their hip holsters on the bench. Ahsoka swept her ‘sabers and Mashan’s up, along with her blaster, and clipped them to her belt. Zatt did the same with his own, and Rex happily strapped his armor and holsters back on, after checking the charges on his twin guns. 

“Right,” said Arana, when they’d armed themselves. “There’s a tunnel system, used for drainage, that will take us up to the street. It comes out in an alleyway. I checked last night, it’ll be a tight squeeze, but we’ll all fit.”

“Who was the genius who built a tunnel system into a detention block?” asked Rex. Arana huffed a quiet laugh.

“I don’t know. I was only stationed here a few years ago, but I believe the building was used for other things prior to the Empire appropriating it.”

“Lead on, then.” said Ahsoka. “We’re short on time.” 

“Agreed.” Arana turned to the end of the block, where, indeed, there was a grate in the wall, welded in place. Ahsoka’s ‘sabers made quick work of it, and they climbed through, Arana first and Ahsoka bringing up the rear. 

The tunnels were straightforward, taking them about a mile from the Imperial Garrison, and ending with a ladder back to the surface. Ahsoka was the last to scramble up, and Rex reached down and took her hand, helping her out onto the street. As she replaced the grate in the sidewalk, an alarm screamed through the streets, emanating from the Garrison. 

“Kreth.” swore Ahsoka. “Let’s go, team. We need to find the others and bail.” 

And so they ran, along the side streets and back alleys, doing their level best to stay out of sight. Arana’s uniform would be a dead giveaway if they were spotted, as were Ahsoka’s montrals. The garrison was, unfortunately, on the opposite side of Keldabe from the West End, where their base was located, and they would have to sneak through the main city square in order to cross sides. 

“Okay,” said Ahsoka, pressed against a wall, gazing into the crowded city center. There were troopers everywhere, stopping random passersby and checking ID. “Any ideas?”

“Maybe if we skirt through the market?” suggested Zatt. “Plenty of shadows and otherworlders. We could maybe blend in.”

“Not with Commander McImperial over here.” said Rex, with a gesture at Arana’s uniform, a bit rumpled, but still very recognizable. 

“We could split up then.” said Arana, a little hesitantly. “If I take one of you, I can bluster my way through the men, and the other two can make it through the market.”

“No way-“ started Rex, but Ahsoka laid a hand on his arm. 

“We don’t have much of a choice, Rexer. This is the best way.” To Arana, she said, “I’ll go with you. Rex, Zatt, you go through the market, and we’ll meet you at the standard rendezvous.” Rex looked as though he was going to argue, but his military training won out, and he nodded grudgingly instead. However, before they could put their plan into action, a shout rang out from the square, barely 50 meters from their alley:

“It’s them! It’s the Rebels!” 

Rex swore fluently in a mixture of Mandoa’a and Huttese, and went for his deecees. Ahsoka heard footsteps behind them and spun to see troopers coming up the alleyway. 

“Kreth.” she hissed again. They were trapped. She drew her ‘sabers, but Arana stepped forward, between them and the troopers, who immediately stopped short upon seeing his rank plate. 

“Commander!” called the leader, his orange pauldron marking him as a Captain. “What are you doing? We have the situation under control, you’re safe now.” Ahsoka almost rolled her eyes. The trooper was an idiot, but his blindness had given Arana an opportunity to betray them. She eyed the Imperial officer’s back warily. If he renounced them now, she, Rex, and Zatt would go back to prison, and Arana would have his cushy command back.

“I regretfully inform you, Captain, that I am not being held against my will.” said Arana, crossing his arms over his black uniform. “Rather, I am resigning my commission in the Imperial Special Operations Command, effective immediately.” He lifted his chin in defiance, and Ahsoka breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

The trooper took half a step back, confused, and Rex took advantage. The Captain dropped like a stone, the hole in his chest still smoking. Blaster bolts lit up the late afternoon shadow, and Ahsoka leapt into action. 

She vaulted over Arana, blocking bolts while he drew his own blaster, and then she rolled out of his way, taking up a position beside Zatt. 

They were going to lose; it was almost inevitable. If they’d had a few more allies, it would have been an even fight; there was no artillery in the square, or heavy reinforcements, but as it was, they were going to be recaptured.

Sure enough, the shots stopped a few moments later. Ahsoka’s little band of rebels had been pushed backwards into the alleyway, and they were trapped between two squads of armored troops. 

“Lay down your weapons, insurgents!” called the other trooper Captain. “You’re under arrest!” Ahsoka wanted, with everything she had, to raise her blades, but she had Zatt to think of. He was 18, yes, but to her, he was just a kid, her apprentice. She’d already lost one of her charges, and she wasn’t about to gamble with another’s life. She closed her eyes, preparing to deactivate her lightsabers.

A shout from Rex made her open them again, just in time to see the Stormtrooper Captain drop to the ground, felled by a single shot. Ahsoka stared, openmouthed, as a blur of dark cloth and red hair dropped from the roof above, landing in their midst. 

“We heard something about a disturbance and a prison break, thought it must be you.” said Ko-Iri with a smile, as more shots streaked from the rooftops, felling troopers. Ahsoka grinned, and raised her ‘sabers once more.

The Stormtroopers, leaderless as they were, panicked, their shots going wild. The three Jedi moved as one, the Force singing around them. Ahsoka’s lightsabers were a double arc of deadly plasma, and trooper dropped before her like stones. The last few managed to organize enough to make a marginally orderly retreat. As soon as the shots stopped, Ahsoka sprinted for the cover of the next alleyway, trusting the others to follow her. 

They didn’t stop running, not until they reached the street on which Five’s was located. Ahsoka had never been so happy to see the run down bar. She ushered her friends and Arana inside, and then locked the door. 

“Right,” said Rex, as the motley group draped themselves over various pieces of furniture in the back rooms. “I think we can all agree that Mandalore’s a bust.” Seeing nods, he looked at Ahsoka. “What do you want to do next, Commander?”

“I think we should join the Senator.” she said. “Like you said, Mandalore’s a bust, and our new ally here has intel that is vital to Organa’s operation.” 

“Senator Organa is really in charge of a rebel movement?” asked Arana. “ _Really?_ Gods, half of me was convinced the Empire was wrong about him. He’s always seemed like such a pacifist.” Ahsoka snorted. 

“He is.” she said. “But he’s a friend of the Jedi, and of democracy. A very loyal one.” To the rest of her cell, she said, “So, are we agreed?” there were nods from both clones and Jedi. 

“Erm-Master?” asked Ko-Iri. Ahsoka saw the question in her eyes, and shook her head, a fresh wash of grief rolling over her. 

“He was sent to Coruscant. Palpatine killed him.” she murmured. Ko-Iri’s face crumpled. She and Mashan had been crèche-mates, and of the five Younglings who’d survived Order 66, they’d been the closest. Zatt reached for her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, shoulders bowed. Ahsoka closed her eyes. 

She couldn’t break down, not here. She had a job to do. 

“Okay. If we’re going, we need to get our gear together. All the weapons, intel, and anything that’ll tell the Empire about us. Gather your things, we’ll leave as soon as we can.” They’d sold their ship for the down payment on this place, but she could probably hire one. Or Ko-Iri could, as her face wouldn’t be plastered on wanted holos throughout the city. Ahsoka sighed. 

She was in the quarters she shared with Ko-Iri, packing, when her Alliance comm beeped. Expecting her main Alliance contact, Ahsoka answered it. 

It was most definitely not her Alliance contact. Rather, it was a small, human girl with very familiar brown eyes and braids, wearing a downcast expression.

“Leia?” the girl nodded. “What’s the matter, Skygirl?” Leia’s bottom lip trembled at the nickname, and Ahsoka’s stomach plunged toward her feet. 

“D-Dad had to stay behind, to stop the Imp from following us, and-and-“ she broke off. 

“Is-is he-” Ahsoka couldn’t finish the thought. It was unthinkable. Anakin was smart-mouthed, brave, reckless, reliable. Not dead. _Not dead._

“I-no, I think I would’ve felt it. Can I stay with you? Please?” Her fingers were twisted tightly together, clenching and unclenching. Ahsoka smiled through her worry.

“Of course, Skygirl, of course you can. I can come pick you up, wherever you are.” Leia shook her head. 

“No, I-Han and I have a ship. Dad and I met him on the moon, and he promised he’d look after me. The ship’s his.” From out of the holo’s range, Ahsoka heard a man’s voice:

“The ship’s _ours_ , Kid. I’d’ve lost that game if not for you two.” Leia’s mouth twitched. 

“I’ll send you my coordinates then. Is your channel secure?” Leia’s eyes widened, confused. Ahsoka raised her hands. 

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart, we’ll manage. Comm me when you dock, and I’ll come meet you, alright?” Leia nodded hesitantly. Ahsoka typed in the coordinates for Mandalore’s main spaceport and sent it through the frequency. Leia looked offscreen for a few moments, then turned back.

“They came through. Han says we’ll be there in four hours. I gotta go, we’re about to jump.”

“Okay,” said Ahsoka, with a (hopefully) reassuring smile. “I’ll see you in a few hours then, Skygirl.”

“Thanks, Aunt ‘Soka.” The comm shut off. All the strength seemed to go out of Ahsoka’s limbs. She sank to her bunk, nerveless. Her master couldn’t, _couldn’t_ be dead. (He wasn’t, she could feel their bond, still firmly attached at both ends) But he was definitely in serious trouble, if he’d entrusted Leia’s care to a near stranger. 

‘The Imperial’ Leia had spoken of was almost certainly Lord Malefus, Palpatine’s apprentice. Which meant, of course, that Anakin had a Sith Lord personally after him, to say nothing of Grand Moff Tarkin and the Imperial Navy. 

It was too much. Mashan’s death, her worry for Leia and Anakin, all of it came bubbling to the surface of her mind, stinging her eyes with salt. She dropped her head into her hands. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, trying to control herself, but at some point, Rex padded into her room and settled beside her on the bunk. She leaned gratefully against his arm, turning her face into his shoulder. He let her sob into his sleeve until she could breathe and function again, and then he offered her a tissue, still wordless. 

“Thanks, Rex.” she murmured, after blowing her nose. “’M sorry about your shirt.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ahsoka, it’s just a shirt. You’re a bit more important to me.” She had to crack a smile at that. 

“Anakin’s in trouble.” she explained. “Leia’s on her way here, with some kid they met a few days ago.” 

“Damn.” breathed Rex. “That’s bad.” Ahsoka nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “Well, then. We’ll take the little one to base, and then we’ll go rescue the General. Wouldn’t be the first time, after all.” She smiled.

“Remember Vanquor?” she asked, voice watery. He chuckled.

“Oh, yeah, Gundarks and poison gas, how could I forget?” He sobered, then. “We’ve been together a long damn time, haven’t we, Commander?” Ahsoka nodded again.

“You’ve had my back for almost half my life, Rex.” 

“Well, you’ve had mine for more than half of my life. Only seems fair.” He took her hand, and squeezed it. “You’re handling this shit just fine, Ahsoka, don’t you dare start second guessing yourself.” She squeezed back. 

“Thanks. It just feels like the whole Galaxy’s against us, sometimes.” Rex laughed, releasing her hand and standing. 

“That’s because it is, Commander.” He took her forearm and tugged her to her feet. “But we’ll handle it. We always do.” 

“Don’t ever leave me, Rex.” she said lightly. His eyes, though, were deadly serious when he answered.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....and, Part II of your double update! Comments are nice, I like them :)


	8. The Best Laid Plans of Senators and Handmaidens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destinies and siblings converge.

10 BBY. Mandalore, Capital City of Keldabe. 

“Jeez, kid, why couldn’t your Aunt be living on a less Imperial planet, huh?” Han nervously guided the ship - _Millenium Falcon_ , Calrissian had said her name was- toward the busy spacedocks, which were crawling with stormtroopers. He was half expecting a sharp retort from Leia, but the girl was quiet, watching the approaching duracrete landing pad with a lost look in her eyes. She’d had that expression that pretty much the whole trip, barely even mustering the energy to bid Lando farewell on Axxila. 

Han didn’t want to admit it, but he was worried about the kid. This silent staring was lightyears away from the loudmouthed, snippy girl he’d met on the Nar Shaddaan Strip, and honestly, he preferred the snarky comments and insults to the way she was now. Hells, she hadn’t even cried, except for right after they’d blasted out of Nar Shaddaa. He hoped her Aunt would cheer her up, because he was apparently really bad at it. 

Miraculously (Han couldn’t wait to get at her wiring and maybe fix the old bucket), the ship touched down with no issues. Han swept up Leia’s little bag, and she slipped out of the copilot’s seat, tucking her dad’s jacket more firmly around her shoulders. Almost immediately after they disembarked, a trooper captain and two lackeys marched up to them and jabbed Han in the chest. 

“Papers?” snapped the leader. Han’s mind went blank with panic. He didn’t have papers. Well, he had the _Falcon’s_ registration papers, Lando’d given them to him, but he’d been 10 when the War had ended, and Shrike had never seemed too interested in official business. 

Leia stepped forward, face pale. She rummaged around in her pocket for a moment, and came out with a datachip, which she presented to the trooper. 

“Please,” she said sweetly, not dropping her outstretched hand. “My brother and I are just meeting some relatives here. Everything’s in order.” The trooper cocked his head to the side, and Leia repeated, more forcefully, “Everything’s in order.” 

“E-everything’s in order.” said the trooper dully. “Move along, then.” Han stared, openmouthed, at the man. No way it was that easy. No way, the Galaxy wasn’t that nice to _anyone_ , let alone kids. 

But Leia was tugging at his arm, and, apparently, it was that easy. 

“What the kriffing hell did you do to that guy?” he hissed under his breath as they walked away. “I thought we were dead meat!” Leia sighed. 

“I tricked him,” she said uncomfortably. “I’m not supposed to talk about it out in the open.” Han scowled, but he didn’t ask again. A very interesting picture was slowly coming together in his mind, formed out of the little things he knew about Leia and Anakin. 

They stopped walking once they were a safe distance from the nearest Stormtroopers, and Leia commed her aunt again. Not trying to program an unfamiliar navicomputer this time, Han actually got a look at her. 

Well, there was no way in the nine Corellian hells that the woman who appeared was actually Leia’s aunt. The Togruta woman smiled. 

“Hey Skygirl, you make it okay?” Leia nodded. 

“There’s a bunch of troopers around, Auntie.” she mumbled. 

“Sure are.” A mischievous smile lit her face. “That may or may not be me and my friends’ fault. We’re at the café across the street. Come meet us there, and we’ll figure out how to get out of here.” Leia nodded again, and shut off the connection. Han sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Hells, but he hoped this aunt was damned good at sneaking around, or there was no way they’d get off the planet alive.

Leia led him to the right café, a greasy spoon joint squashed between the customs booth and a dingy looking bar. She also led him to the right table, occupied by the Togruta from the holo, a small dark haired man whose body language positively screamed discomfort, and a tall bald guy with a weirdly familiar face and a gun on each hip. Leia didn’t hug the Togruta lady or anything, but she smiled, the first real smile Han had seen on her since their escape from Nar Shaddaa. 

“Hi, Auntie.” she murmured. “This is Han. He won the ship, and he helped me get away.” Evidently, this counted as a vote of confidence, because the woman leveled a sharp blue look at him, and then nodded. 

“Sit down, kids.” said the big bald guy. “You hungry?” he asked, as they complied. Han shook his head. 

“Ate on the ship.” said Leia softly. The woman reached over and patted her hand. 

“He’s fine, Skygirl,” she said, eyes deadly serious. “Search your feelings, you know he is.” Leia nodded, finally looking up from the table. 

“Right, then.” said the bald guy. “I reckon we should get down to the business of leaving, don’t you, Sir?” This was addressed to Leia’s aunt, who didn’t seem offended at being called ‘sir.’ 

“Yeah, probably. If we move fast, the three of us should be able to divert the troopers’ attention.” Looking to Han, she asked, “Are there officers out there, too, or just troopers?” 

“I only saw the bucketheads.” said Han. The uncomfortable looking guy nodded at this, visibly perking up. 

“They’re spread thin, likely, and they aren’t terribly imaginative. Without an experienced ISOC officer to lead them, they’ll be sloppy.” 

“Well then,” said the Togruta with a slight smile. “I guess it’s a good thing they don’t have one anymore, huh?” She stood, and slid gracefully out of the booth, followed by the bald guy. Leia and Han followed suit. Had Han been paying attention, he’d have noticed the Togruta woman flash a series of hand signals to a nearby table, populated by two teenagers and two men whose faces were obscured by nondescript helmets. However, the vast majority of Han’s attention was focused on young Leia Skywalker, so he didn’t notice Ahsoka Tano’s subtle communication. 

By some miracle (or not, and Han was beginning to suspect the gods’ wills had nothing to do with it) they reached the Falcon without incident, and maybe two minutes after they boarded, as Han powered up the ship’s systems and the woman gave the cockpit a critical once-over, four more beings walked up the ship’s access ramp.

“Nice one, Master Tano.” said one, a young Nautolan, as he entered the cockpit. “I think that trooper actually forgot his own name.” The Togruta, whose name was apparently Tano, grinned, but Leia did not. 

“I don’t like tricking people like that.” she mumbled. “It feels wrong.” Tano’s grin faded. 

“Sometimes, we have to do things that don’t sit right with us in order to survive, Young One.” she said softly. Leia looked at the floor. “What is it?” asked Tano, noticing this. 

“Dad calls me that, when he talks about life lessons.” Tano smiled. 

“You and me both, kid.” she patted Leia’s shoulder. “Now then. Where are you headed, Han?” Han crossed his arms.

“I go where the kid goes. Her dad made me promise to keep her safe while he’s busy, and that’s what I’m gonna do.” He raised his chin. If this lady thought she was gonna get rid of him so easy, she had another kriffing thing coming. He felt Leia’s small hand grip the bottom of his too-big jacket. The Togruta woman hesitated for a moment, and Hand could practically feel her judging him, deciding if he was trustworthy. Finally, she sighed. 

“Okay. I suppose it is your ship, isn’t it?” Han shook his head. 

“No.” He looked down at the top of Leia’s head. “It belongs to both of us.” 

**

Hours later, as the _Falcon_ rocketed through hyperspace, heading to an old Separatist refueling station in the Outer Rim, Han should have been asleep. Really, he should have. He hadn’t had more than a quick nap on the way to Mandalore since the night before he’d met Leia and Anakin. 

It was hard to sleep, though, when his mind was going at lightspeed. 

Jedi. Leia’s aunt was a Jedi. He’d suspected, of course, from the moment Anakin’s voice had spoken in his mind, clear as Corellian liquor. And now, of course, he realized that Leia’s dad was Anakin kriffing Skywalker, Jedi Knight and War Hero of the Republic. As a kid, Han had found an action figure on the street, dropped by some other child, and he’d pretended it was Skywalker or Kenobi, depending on the day. 

Shrike had blasted it into a smear on the deck the first time Han had come back empty handed from a pickpocketing mission. 

Now, he’d met Skywalker. In fact, he was sharing a cabin with Skywalker’s kid, who, when given the option between sleeping in his cabin and her aunt’s, had picked him, much to Han’s surprise. 

What had he gotten himself into? Pirates and lowlives, that he was used to, he’d dealt with them ever since he could remember, but until now, he’d always thought of the Empire as sort of good, a way to escape Shrike, to make something of his life. He’d been thinking about joining the Academy at Carida, actually. Now, he was rethinking it. Leia trusted Ahsoka, even though she’d only met her once, via holocomm. And, quite honestly, Han did too. She’d spoken quietly, but her voice shook when she talked about the end of the Republic. Operation Knightfall, she called it. 

The three clone troopers backed her up, showing him the surgical scars on their temples where they’d removed the chips that'd made the rest of the clones kill their Generals. And finally, as if to cement the story, the uncomfortable looking guy turned out to be an Imperial officer. Or, a former one, Han guessed, since he’d apparently broken Tano out of prison and defected because he wasn’t down with the Emperor’s methods. 

Han had handled the story of their escape from Nar Shaddaa, which Leia seemed grateful for. Ahsoka’s brow markings came together in worry when he finished. 

“Organa’s not gonna like that.” she murmured. 

“Who’s Organa?” asked Leia, speaking for the first time.

And then Ahsoka was off again, talking about Organa, some Senator bigwig, who’d started a resistance movement with a few of his friends from the Senate, and some old Republic diehards.

So now here he was, failing to sleep on a ship full of traitors and supposedly extinct warriors, blasting towards an honest-to-gods rebellion.

Across the cabin, there was a rustling of sheets.

“Han?” whispered Leia. “You awake?” Han flicked a luma on, bathing them in dim white light. 

“Yeah, kid. What’s up?” 

“Thanks for staying.” she mumbled. 

“Yeah,” said Han, shifting uncomfortably. He was no good at this mushy shavit. “Well, it’s half my ship. Couldn’t just let you run off with it, could I?” Leia cracked a tiny smile. Han shrugged, and cleared his throat gruffly. “Go back to sleep, Your Worshipfulness.” Leia rolled her eyes, and turned over with a huff. Han flicked the luma back off and rolled onto his back.

He grinned in the dark. She’d be alright, she was a tough little thing. There was no way to know what would happen next, but Han thought they’d all be alright, in the end. 

**

10 BBY. Abandoned Separatist Refueling Station, the Outer Rim. 

To say that Sabé was irritated would be the understatement of the century. In fact, it might have been the biggest understatement in the history of the Old Republic. Were it not for Luke’s presence on the ex-Sith’s ship, she’d probably have gotten into a full on fistfight with Kenobi at least once. 

The sheer irresponsibility of that man. A Sith. He was dating a _Sith_. Dear Goddess, Ventress was a murderer, had he forgotten? What was worse, Luke was fascinated with her. Once he’d gotten over his fear, he’d been incessantly asking questions, as only an eight year old could do. On their two day travel through hyperspace, he’d studied the ship’s schematics, received a quick copiloting lesson from Kenobi, and asked no less than eighteen times to hold someone’s lightsaber. Only stern glares from Sabé had stopped the Jedi from acquiescing. 

Sabé didn’t give a shaak’s ass if the Temple kids started learning to hold laser swords at four, Luke was far too young. 

Not a moment too soon, they’d arrived at Organa’s makeshift headquarters, very recently established, and she’d been able to escape. She felt a bit bad about leaving Luke in Kenobi’s care, but he definitely cared about the boy, and a bottle of brown hair dye and a fake name would conceal his true identity from anyone who might care. There likely wasn’t anyone here who would. 

Organa sighed and leaned back in his chair, running a distracted hand through his hair. 

“It never stops, does it?” he muttered. “I don’t blame you, Sabé, of course, but shavit, this is a mess.” 

“Agreed.” she said. “I’m not telling him anything, that should be Padmé’s job.” 

“Well, yes, ordinarily, I’d agree with you.” Sabé sighed.

“But?”

“But,” said Organa, “I had word just now from Commander Tano’s cell. They had some misadventures, but the gist is that Mandalore is lost. They’re safely on their way here, with three passengers.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if to ward off a headache, and Sabé suddenly felt one of her own coming on. “An Imperial defector with information, Leia Skywalker, and a Corellian kid who’s been charged with her protection until she got to Tano, it seems.” 

Yep, definitely a headache. Sabé groaned.

“Why, _why_ couldn’t Padmé have just married a goddess damned politician and had done with it?” Organa laughed humorlessly. “There’s no hope for it. We’ll just have to do damage control, and hope their parents get back before they ask too many questions.” 

“Agreed.” Organa grinned sardonically. “Welcome to the resistance effort, Miss Sabé.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whee, new chapter, and it hasn't been two months this time! It's short, I know, but the next few will be very action packed, so there's that. Leave me comments, they fuel my soul.


	9. Catalysts, or, Part the Second Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé gets frustrated, a meeting takes place, and events are set in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, it's back! I'm terrible, and I'm sorry for the long break between chapters, but I finally have the rest of the story planned out, so there is an upside! Plus, Finals are over, so there's that. Time is going to start skipping around a little from here out, but just read the little setting blurbs and you should be fine. As always, I love every one of your comments, so keep them coming! Happy Reading!

9 BBY. Florrum, Hondo Ohnaka's Compound. 

Florrum was beautiful, in a harsh, yellow sort of way. The land was rocky and uneven, stretching endlessly to the ancient mountains in the west, so far off on the horizon so as to be nearly impossible to make out. There were few major cities, but a myriad of little towns, mostly centered around mines. 

The Imperial garrison, established around eight months ago, had carried out its mission well. Petty crime and smuggling was down to the lowest point in living memory. Even the famous pirate, Hondo Ohnaka, seemed unable to best the Imperial blockade. In fact, the people of Florrum's main entertainment for the past several months had been Ohnaka’s varied attempts to slip through the Star Destroyers’ ranks. None had worked out so far, but the brief flashes of battle visible from the planet’s surface were always interesting to watch. 

Interesting for the locals, anyway. For Hondo and his pirates, and most especially for their increasingly desperate guest, the garrison was a serious problem. 

“Another one?” she groaned. Hondo sighed. It was the sixth plan, the sixth attempt to find a weakness in the seemingly impenetrable blockade holding Florrum, and, consequently, Hondo’s business, in a chokehold. It had ended much the same as the other five, his pilot dead in a twisted, flaming hunk of metal on the planet’s vast geyser fields, and a small, angry Senator in his office, venting her frustration on him.

Hondo raised his hands, palms out. “I am sorry, Padmé, but I simply don’t have the answer you so desire. Frankly, it would take a miracle to get anything off this world without the Empire noticing.” Hondo barely reacted, other than to lean backwards, as Padmé slammed her small hand into his desk with a loud bang. Padmé Amidala, as it turned out, was quite the spitfire when she was frustrated. Hondo imagined she and Skywalker must have made a hell of a pair, from what he knew of the Jedi.

“There has to be something, the blockade cannot be invincible!” she snapped, eyes flashing. Hondo, who was rather used to this, sighed again. 

“Unfortunately, until the Empire lifts, or at least loosens, the blockade around the planet, there is no way off. Believe me, I would not hold back information from you, it’s in my best interest to move on as well. Florrum is no longer profitable for my men and I.” That was certainly true, he reflected. More than half of the captains and crews had already gone, hitching rides on outgoing transports. Hondo, however, would not leave unless he could do it with his reputation intact. Anything less would kill his career faster than a Mandalorian in full plate. 

As she opened her mouth to retort, a shout rose from the yard below.

“Week’s rations are here!” Padmé, who always helped unload and inventory the compound’s Imperially allotted rations, turned to leave, much to Hondo's relief. Before she went, though, she had one more thing to say.

“There is a way, Captain, and believe me, I will find it, miracle or no.”

**

She shouldn’t yell at Hondo. After all, it certainly wasn’t the pirate’s fault that the Empire had taken up seemingly permanent residence in his backyard. In fact, she ought to be thanking him for not handing her over, despite having had several opportunities to do just that. Just last month, in fact, Commander Barnetto had been in the compound, conducting a search for contraband and illegal substances. The Empire hadn’t turned anything up since arriving, but Barnetto enjoyed throwing his weight around. Padmé shuddered to think what he did to the poor miners in the towns. At least out here, they were all fairly used to having blasters in their faces. Lost in thought, she nearly walked into the compound’s heavy doors. Mentally chastising herself for her inattention, she pulled down her dust goggles before stepping out. A gust of wind blew through the yard as she walked, dust stinging her skin. Eight months ago, she’d have squirmed at being so dirty. Now, though, Padmé simply pulled her scarf up over her nose so as not to get dust in her mouth, and trudged on. 

Unloading was hard, sweaty work, made no easier by the constant dust, but it was necessary, and it made Padmé feel useful, so she was happy to do it. She’d have killed for a shower with real water, though. And, of course, she’d do anything, anything at all, to get off this rock and back to her son. She no longer allowed herself to think about the rest of her family. The nightmares were simply too much. 

Above her, like the Galaxy’s worst cosmic joke, the Star Destroyers loomed. She couldn’t see them, but she knew exactly what they looked like, bone white against the darkness of space, and seemingly invincible. In her darker moments, she thought maybe they were, that the Galaxy was doomed to live under Imperial control for the rest of its existence. After all, her best hope of escape was currently to wait until the Empire decided to lift its blockade. How pathetic, for a woman who’d once liberated her world from a similar blockade with only her personal security, two Jedi, and a nine-year old for backup. 

As she dropped her last crate with a sigh, there was a voice behind her, snapping her out of her black mood. “Afternoon, me Lady!” called the tall, unusually broad-shouldered Weequay as he passed. She rolled her eyes, but responded good-naturedly, her voice muffled a bit by the scarf.

“How many times, Alatar, it’s Padmé, not my Lady!” Ike laughed, hefting the crate he was carrying in his arms. 

“Right you are, Lady Padmé!” Still wearing a self-satisfied grin, Ike sauntered inside to drop off his crate of rations. Padmé smiled. Ike was one of Hondo’s more loyal captains, and he was a good-natured being, always able to lighten the mood. In times like these, with little to no profits and at the mercy of Imperial forces, he was invaluable to the survival of the compound. 

There was little, very little, good about being on Florrum, but Hondo and his pirates weren’t so bad, especially now that the alcohol had run out and they were mostly lucid. She’d take the friends she could get, no matter how uncouth. She chuckled to herself as she walked by Onyo and Tanala having one of their famous lover’s spats in the hallway, and thanked the goddess that Luke wasn’t here to pick up any of their colorful insults, or, dear goddess, ask her what they meant.

**

It was Ike, finally, who brought the news. 

“Hondo says we’ve gotta load up, Onyo, he wants the transport ready in an hour.” Padmé, in the middle of a conversation with the young pirate, snapped her head up.

“He’s making another run?” 

“In a manner of speakin’” said Ike with a sly grin. “’E wants to see you b’fore we head out, too.” Padmé bid a hasty goodbye to Onyo and practically sprinted to Hondo’s office, leaving the two pirates to their newfound work. 

“What happened?” she asked, not bothering with a greeting. Hondo looked up from the box he was poring over.

“Ah, Former Senator!” he exclaimed. “The answer to our problems is here at last!” 

“What happened?” she repeated, striding to his desk and planting her palms against the durasteel. Hondo grinned.

“We are getting off this rock!” he said. “Just a few minutes ago, I received a transmission from an -ah- friend in the Imperial garrison. Evidently, two of the Destroyers are being redeployed as reinforcements for some big brass who’s gotten himself into some trouble on Lianna.” Padmé felt a wide grin of her own stretch across her face. Offering up a quick ‘thank you’ to whatever trouble might necessitate two Star Destroyers as backup, she laughed, exhilarated. 

“So this is it, then, Captain?” he nodded. 

“Right you are.” My people are loading a transport as we speak, and we’ll drop you off at the Outer Rim port of your choice, assuming we break the blockade.” That was something, certainly more than she'd expected upon arriving here so many months ago, but experience told her she could do better, and so she let her smile turn sly, and got ready to negotiate.

“I have an alternative plan,” she began. “You’ll need fighter pilots, right, to punch through what’s left of the blockade?” Hondo nodded, narrowing his eyes. “Let me fly one. I’ve been flying for years, and I have experience with fighters. I can help you get through.” 

“And then you’ll keep it, I assume?” she nodded. pleased with his quick intellect.

“In return for my aid in breaking the blockade, and for all my help in managing this place these past 8 months.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “I’d say that’s worth one little starfighter, wouldn’t you?” she finished sweetly. Hondo laughed. 

“You were born for this negotiating thing, Former Senator.” he said, still chuckling. “Ah, what can I say, I am in a good mood! We are agreed.” He held out a hand, and she took it, feeling an old, nostalgic surge of excitement in her blood. 

It had been ages since she’d been on an adventure, and the fourteen-year-old fighter in her was ready.

**

Around the Same Time, An Abandoned Separatist Refueling Station, The Outer Rim

 

The intelligence report was equal parts ominous and relieving. The repositioning of two local Destroyers to back up any Imperial ship on any system was something to pay attention to, and perhaps to capitalize on, but intel on this particular ship was red-flagged on the entire Rebel Intelligence network to go straight to Bail Organa’s office, though not one of the operatives had any idea why. 

On the surface, there was nothing special about the _Inexorable._ It wasn't the fastest, best armed, or largest Star Destroyer in the Navy, but to Bail, it was perhaps the most significant ship in the Galaxy, let alone the Imperial Navy. Until now, he’d had no reports of incidents surrounding the lone Destroyer, nothing to pin her down in any one system. Now, though, she was in orbit above Lianna, calling for significant backup and finally, _finally_ , Bail had enough intel to send in a team. He switched his comm on.

“Commander, I need an Extraction Team up here, now. I’ve got a priority alpha mission.”

**

But First, Some Background

 

10 BBY. Bail Organa’s Headquarters in the Outer Rim.

 

The base’s cafeteria was huge, and so, so busy, Leia could hardly make sense of it. Beings were everywhere, waiting in line for food, and crowding around the tables. Laughter and cheerful shouts filled the air. In another place, Nar Shaddaa, for example, she might have hated it, but here, the noise seemed friendly instead of scary. Of course, it helped that no one was fighting, or haggling, or standing menacingly in the corner. She looked to Han, hoping he’d find a place for them to sit and eat, and wishing Aunt Ahsoka and her team hadn’t had to go to their ‘debriefing.’ Leia didn’t know what the word meant, exactly, but she did know she wanted Ahsoka’s solid presence beside her. It was almost like having Dad there. 

“You can sit down here, if you want?”

Leia jumped, and she whirled around to stare at the boy who’d spoken, clutching her tray and instinctively looking for a threat. He was smiling, and it was so bright it looked like both suns lived behind his face. He was also familiar, like a dream she couldn’t quite remember. The answer was right on the edge of her mind, and she was curious, so she grabbed Han’s sleeve and tugged him toward the table. 

“My name’s Ruwee. Ruwee Nertie.” the boy said as they approached, and patted the spot next to him on the bench. The Force jumped, and twisted around the words, and Leia knew it was a lie. The boy was something special, and it _definitely_ wasn’t Ruwee Nertie. 

“No.” she said, cocking her head to the side as she sat down across from him. “That’s not right. What’s your real name?” Not-Ruwee’s eyes went wide, and he looked to the lady sitting beside him. Afraid, Leia realized. He was afraid. Beside him, his lady friend’s eyebrows came down, eyes suddenly suspicious. And then, Leia understood. “It’s okay,” she said, holding up her hands like Dad did when he was trying to reassure people. “You’re lying because it’s not safe to tell the truth, I get it.” She and Dad had done the same back home, after all. And then, because the kid still looked terrified, she added, “I’m Leia Skywalker, my Dad’s got a lot of friends here, and I’m no Imperial.” At this, the lady sighed, brown eyes going from suspicious to something more like annoyed. 

“No point in hiding, love, I think it’s safe to tell them the truth.” she said. The boy didn’t look so sure, and he was staring at Leia like a womp rat stared at a nexu, but he eventually opened his mouth again.

“Luke,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “My name’s Luke Naberrie.” And that, _that_ made the Force hum gently in agreement. She smiled, and stuck her hand across the table. “Pleased to meet you, Luke.” He took her hand and shook, with a shy smile of his own. Beside her, Han leaned across the table.

“Han Solo. Good to meet you, kid.” Luke turned his shy little smile to the older boy, and nodded. 

“So,” said Leia with a wide grin. “Wanna explore the base after lunch? It seems wizard!” 

At the prospect of exploring, Luke’s smile flipped immediately back to the sun bright one from earlier. “I’ll show you the hangar. It’s the best part!”

“Nine hells,” groaned Han. “Now there’s another one.” Across the table, Sabé Nertie heaved a long-suffering sigh, and wondered what she’d done in a past life to deserve this. 

**

Approximately Two Weeks Later, Bail Organa’s Headquarters

 

The Rebel base was never silent. It was like Coruscant, in that way. Even in the darkest hour of the night cycle, the systems clicked and whirred, and the low hum of the main power reactor was a comforting constant of life on the old deep space fuel depot. As such, Luke felt as safe and at home as he had since his mother had answered her comlink all those months ago. 

No matter how safe he was, though, he couldn’t get Mom out of his head. She was out there somewhere (she had to be, she couldn’t be gone, she just couldn’t) and Luke missed her, he missed her _so much._ She should be here too, safe with with her friends. Mom had so many friends here, it was crazy. There was Aunt Sabé, of course, and Senator Organa, who she’d always told Luke he could go to for help. But then there was Leia’s Aunt Ahsoka too, and General Kenobi, and Mon Mothma, who Luke kind of remembered from Coruscant, but she’d left when he’d been really little. And, if Mom was here, she could meet Leia and Han, too. Luke thought she’d like that, but she might think they were too rough. Mom was always gentle, always telling Luke to use his words carefully, that they were better than his fists. 

Plus, Han and Leia knew all kinds of bad words, in at least three languages.

Leia didn’t talk about it ever, but Luke knew she missed her dad, too. Han had told him what had happened on Nar Shaddaa, how Leia’s dad had led the bad guy away so they could escape. Luke’s mom had done that for him and Sabé, so Luke kinda got it, and he and Leia'd talked about it soon after. It didn't make their parents come back, but it was nice to have a friend who understood how it felt.

Sometimes, though, Leia was kinda scary. It was like she knew things she couldn’t have known, like the first time they’d met, when she knew he'd lied, even though Mom had taught Luke how to lie like a senator sometimes needed to, and he was pretty sithin’ good at it, if he did say so himself. It had worked out all right, of course, she understood why he’d wanted to lie, but it was pretty weird, all the same. Ahsoka and Ben were like that too, always seeming like they knew things about you that you hadn’t told them. Luke thought it was maybe a Jedi thing. Leia was too young to be a Jedi of the Republic, of course, but she said her dad was one, and that counted. 

Leia was probably his best friend, weird Jedi stuff aside, even though he’d barely known her two weeks. She and Han always had something fun to do, and she always seemed to know what to say, either to get them out of trouble or to make Luke laugh. Plus, knew all kinds of stuff about engines, and she knew how to fly a speeder, which made her lightyears better than any of the girls in Luke’s school back home. If Mom and Leia’s dad were here, life would be pretty much perfect. As it was, though, Luke wanted, more than anything, to go find Mom and bring her here to the base, so they could be a family again.

And that, all of that, was why he couldn’t sleep, even though it was the middle of the night cycle. So, instead of flopping back against the pillows for the millionth time, Luke got up and padded down the hallway to where Leia slept, in a little cabin with Master Tano and her female Padawan. She was awake when he opened the door, and for some reason, he wasn’t surprised. He thought she was probably thinking the same kinda stuff he was. She sat on her narrow bunk, wrapped in a leather jacket that was way, way too big for her, and held a gently glowing holo in her hands. Luke crept into the room by the light of the holo, and Leia looked up. Seeing him, she waved him over, so he scrambled up onto the bunk. Seated beside her, he could actually see the holo she’d been looking at so intently, and he was shocked to find that he recognized it, even though the woman was way younger than he could remember her ever being. 

He turned to stare at Leia, and whispered, quiet as he could, “Where’d you get that?” 

She frowned at him, confused. “It was in Dad’s pocket, I found it my first night here.” she whispered back. “Why, do you know who she is?” Luke nodded.

“Yeah.” he said. “That’s my mom.”


	10. A Bounty Hunter, An Ex-Jedi, and An Intrepid Rebel Walk into a Base, See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka makes some travel plans, Luke knows more than anyone thinks, Obi-Wan can't communicate, and Asajj can. Meanwhile, Anakin is trying his best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is Ventress/Obi-Wan in this chapter, mostly in the last scene.

Eight Months Later

9 BBY. The Outer Rim, An Abandoned Separatist Refueling Station

Bail narrowed his eyes at his senior Intelligence agent. “And you’re sure about this?” he asked.  
Agent Yanda Ka, a Rodian intelligence worker, shrugged. “As sure as we can be.” Bail waved a hand, prompting the reticent agent to elaborate. One of her antennae twitched in discomfort, but she went on. “Our network is having a hard time infiltrating the Navy and the Intel operations, but sources closest to 16th Fleet’s position tell us they’re gearing up for a mission, and this station is the only thing in the sector worth checking out.” 

Bail sighed, and raised a weary hand to his forehead. “Understood. Thank you for the report.” Taking this for the dismissal it was, the woman inclined her head and departed. As the door hissed shut behind her, Bail commed his senior officers and negotiators, all of who but Mon Mothma were on location. One by one, the leadership of the resistance filed in. All of them were fugitives, charged with sedition and worse, and Bail counted most of his best friends among them. Sometimes, he wondered at the changes his life had undergone in the past nine years.

Generals Tano and Kenobi arrived together, and last, filling out what passed for a command personnel. As they took seats around the command room’s holo table, Bail stood, determined get the bad news out of the way first.

“The Empire has received word that this station’s power grid is active. We are very likely to have company within the day.” There were varied reactions to this pronouncement. The two Jedi went stiff, their expressions grave, Dodonna swore quietly into his beard, and Mon, appearing via hologram from Dac, blanched visibly, cheeks going nearly opaque under the blue filter. “Luckily for us, they do not know that anyone in particular is here. Intercepted Fleet chatter suggests that they are merely conducting a sweep in response to the power grid activation.”

“Without capital ships, our only option is to run before they get here.” said Dodonna, leaning forward. “The Empire still isn’t aware that we exist as an organized resistance, and we must keep it that way.”

Obi-Wan nodded, tapping a forefinger against his bearded chin. “He’s right,” said the Jedi. “I suppose the good news about having such a small force is that there’s very little to move. We can get out within three hours, give or take a few minutes.”

“That’s still cutting it awfully close, Master Kenobi.” said Mon softly. Bail agreed, but there was nothing else they could do. Well, nothing for the rebellion. There was something more Bail could do for Padmé and her husband, and he intended to see it done.

“Handle your departments, then.” he said. “Full evacuation. Our primary rendezvous point will be Sulon, as agreed upon. If it’s occupied, follow procedure and head for the secondary point.” As the commanders nodded and rose from their seats, Bail turned to Mon. “How are your negotiations going?” She shook her head, looking grim. 

“Not well.” She sighed. “It took me months to even get a meeting with representatives of the Mon Cala and Quarren. The Empire has Dac in a stranglehold. The people are trying to fight back, but without leadership from within, they won’t get far. Their top naval commanders were all enslaved under the Pacification Act.” Mon snorted in disgust at the term. “No capital ships anytime soon, I’m sorry, Viceroy.” Bail nodded in understanding. 

“Stay safe, my friend.” he said, and, with a nod, she disconnected the comm, her image blinking out in a flash of blue.

He looked then at Obi-Wan, one of two members of the command council who didn’t have personnel to manage. “I want you to coordinate with your contacts and see about finding the Mon Cala Naval officers. Use whatever resources you feel are necessary. A liberated Dac would aid our efforts infinitely.” The Jedi nodded, with a slight, secretive smile, and Bail inferred that a certain Rattataki assassin would likely be accompanying Obi-Wan on his mission. Finally, as the last few beings trailed out of the room, he caught Ahsoka's attention, and she hung back, one brow marking raised in question. 

“I want you to take Leia now, before the evacuation starts." he said. "In case we don’t get out in time, I don’t want her getting snapped up by the Empire. Go the long way to Sulon, and don’t tell her why you’re taking her off base, none of us needs a panicked Force-Sensitive child around. There’s a scheduled supply run you can make, very low risk. Take Sabé and her boy as well, I doubt Leia would go without him.” Ahsoka nodded.

“Solo too.” she murmured, mostly to herself. “I’ll go find them.” 

**

 

9 BBY. The Outer Rim, An Abandoned Separatist Refueling Station

 

The intrepid Rebel operatives were so close. So close to discovering the location of the Empire’s top agent and stopping him. All they had to do was stay hidden. It wasn’t comfortable, curled up like a pair of monkey lizards, but that was the life of a Rebel spy. Below them, the Imperial Hangar hummed with life, full of troopers and officers going about their evil business. Above the mundane chatter was the sound of their quarry’s increasingly desperate calls as he searched in vain for the infiltrators who, unless caught, would no doubt thwart his plans.

“Where have you gotten to this time?” 

Beside her, curled up in the dark access hatch, her partner grinned at the panicked shout. “Got ‘em now” he mouthed, and jerked his thumb at the grate. The Rebel Commander nodded, and wriggled silently forward, recalling all of her combat training. Her partner lifted the grate with light, gentle fingers, and the Commander launched herself forward with a fearsome warcry, catching her target in the back.

**

“Son of a chuff sucking, Sith-spawned Hutt!” yelped Han, as one of the two children he’d been looking for collided with his spine, sending them both tumbling to the hangar floor. The spectacle elicited a few chuckles from the mechanics on duty, and full-throated laugh from Colonel Rieekan, who was discussing something or other with Colonel Ceryx across the hangar. 

“Gotcha, Imp!” crowed Luke, (or Ruwee, as they called him out loud) clambering down from the low-set access hatch in which the two brats had apparently been hiding. Hells, it was tiny, how had they managed to squeeze inside? 

“I’ve been looking for you two for ages! How long were you in there?” he asked, disentangling himself from Leia’s skinny legs. She scrambled to her feet with more grace than should have been possible for a nine-year-old and set her small fists on her hips. 

“Almost an hour, right, Ruwee?” The brown haired boy nodded, looking smug. 

“We were staking out the mission!” he said proudly. 

Han rolled his eyes. “Good job, you little menace.” Honestly, he’d thought the little Princess was bad enough by herself. Since she’d met the boy, they’d been twice the trouble. How in the ‘verse he’d managed to get attached to the Twin Terrors, Han would never know. 

Leia laughed. 

“We’re not menaces, we’re Rebels!” she said, grinning widely and displaying the recently acquired gap in her teeth. 

“Rebels,” came a voice from behind Han, “would have been quieter, Little One.” Luke, at least, had the grace to look a little ashamed, glancing down at his feet as Ahsoka approached. Leia just shrugged. Han grinned. Reinforcements, at last. “And you, young Solo, should be more aware of your surroundings.” Han scowled at her. So much for backup, then.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I don’t have magic Jedi powers or whatever.” he grumbled.

Ahsoka laughed, though it sounded a little forced. “Well, at least you improved the Colonel’s day.” she said, with a jerk of her chin toward Colonel Riekaan, who had only just stopped laughing as General Dodonna approached him and the other colonel. Leia’s grin got, were that possible, even wider, and Ahsoka leaned down conspiratorially. “Now, if you ‘Rebels’ are willing to hold still for two minutes and listen, I’ve got a proposition for all three of you.” Han raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I’ve been given a mission, and I want you three to come with my men and I.” Both children’s eyes widened, excitement glowing in them. Han was excited, too, though he was way too mature to show it. Ahsoka smiled. “I thought you might like the idea. It’s your first mission as rebels! Now, go pack a bag with whatever you think you’ll need, okay? Make sure you’ve got at least one change of clothes, I don’t know how long this will take. I’m gonna go prep the Falcon. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

** 

Leia was practically bouncing off the walls all the way back to their quarters, but Luke was a little worried, for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was Ahsoka, and the way she’d been smiling, the same way Mom did when she’d been crying the night before and didn’t think Luke knew. Or maybe it was the fact that they’d been begging for months to go with Leia’s aunt every time she left on a mission and she’d always, _always_ said no. Mom had taught Luke a long time ago how to look under what beings said, especially when they were telling you things you wanted to hear, and somehow, Luke didn’t think this was as simple as their first Rebel mission. As they reached their door, Leia’s voice, raised in a question, yanked him out of his thoughts. 

“…ask her, right??” Luke blinked at his friend, confused.

“Huh?” Leia rolled her eyes. 

“Pay attention, laser brain!” she admonished. “I said, we’re finally gonna get a chance to ask Auntie ‘Soka about the Holo! Aren’t you excited at all?” 

Huh. Luke hadn’t thought about that, actually. The Holo, the one of Luke’s mom that Leia had found, was a mystery they were determined to solve. Unfortunately, nobody seemed to know anything about it. They’d asked Sabé, since she was Mom’s best friend, but she’d just shrugged and said maybe Leia’s Dad had been curious about the Senators. Ben, who was apparently good friends with Mom too, had said the same thing. Luke knew that wasn’t right, though. That was a dumb reason to have a holo in your pocket if he’d ever heard one. Han was only a little more helpful. He’d just said, “I don’t know, maybe they were friends or somethin’. Those Jedi types were always working with the Senate during the war.” Maybe that was the truth, but Luke and Leia weren’t going to stop until they knew. 

Leia was sure Ahsoka would know something, since she was practically her dad’s sister, but the togruta Jedi was almost never on base. She was always off doing stuff for Viceroy Organa, and they hadn’t gotten a chance to ask her about the Holo. 

“Yeah,” he said, real excitement blooming in his chest for the first time. “You sure she knows about it?” Leia nodded, eyes resolute and sure.

“She’s got to.” 

 

**

 

9 BBY. Hyperspace, Somewhere Between Taris and Lianna, The Hold of a Small Cargo Freighter.

All Anakin could think was that this was definitely against the Legal Transport and Trade Code. For Kriff’s sake, there wasn’t enough room down here to stretch his legs out, and none of the crates had even been secured to the floor, which meant that every time the ship hit a pocket of energy in the hyperspace tunnel, they threatened to collide with his head. He already had two throbbing bruises, and his day didn’t seem to be getting any better from here. 

Well, at least he was away from Taris. Stupid idea anyway, thinking the rumor might have been true about Ohnaka’s gang being holed up there. Unfortunately, Anakin couldn’t afford to ignore any rumors, even the vague and unreliable ones. In nearly eight months of searching, he’d turned up exactly nothing about Hondo Ohnaka. Instead, he’d been arrested on Mandalore, though only by the regular guard; thank whichever of Padmé’s Goddesses happened to be listening. After that, it was one close brush with Imperial troops after another, though he hadn’t stayed in one place long enough for the Sith Lord to catch up with him. He could feel the Sith’s rising frustration like an unpleasant shadow dogging his steps though, and it was likely only a matter of time. Anakin knew himself well enough to know that if he found a lead on Padmé, he’d follow it wherever it led, Sith Lord be damned. Now that Leia and Luke were safe (they were, he could feel Leia's presence in their bond, all _warmdesertsunshine_ and doubly strong for being with her twin) there was nothing, _nothing_ more important than finding his wife and making sure she was, too. 

With a sigh, Anakin dropped his head against a crate and tried, uselessly, to massage the cramps out of his knees. He’d been sitting here for going on eight hours now, and he’d fallen asleep twice, only to be woken both times by unsecured cargo connecting with his ribcage. The fact that he’d managed to fall asleep at all despite the incredibly uncomfortable way his legs were bent was a testament to how exhausted he was. In the past four days, he’d slept maybe nine hours, all of it in seedy motels in Taris’ underbelly. The past eight months had probably been the hardest living he’d ever experienced, which, for someone who’d lived on Tatooine for half his life and fought a war for two and a half straight years, was truly saying something. 

Words could not describe how much Anakin Skywalker hated Darth Sidious in that moment, sitting in the freezing hold of a smuggling freighter headed Gods-knew-where with his ass almost completely numb. And that wasn’t even touching the real reasons he hated him either, not the mild panic he’d been in ever since the Sith had shown up on Tatooine, not the empty, lonely way the Force resonated these days, and not the pain the Empire caused billions of beings every day. The Republic might have been a bureaucratic nightmare, but at least it had _tried._

Gods, he needed to stop dwelling on shit like this. Without Leia’s bright presence beside him, the Dark was a sweet, beckoning lure, drawing on his anger and fears, just as it always had.

Anakin sighed again and resolutely focused on something, anything, other than his deeply un-Jedi-like feelings. Like plans. Plans were good. Once the ship got wherever it was going, he’d get back to hunting leads. It was maddening, frustrating work, the kind Anakin had never been good at, but he had to find Hondo’s hideout. Padmé would be there. She would. She had to be. 

**

9 BBY. Nal Hutta, Capital City of Bilbousa

No matter how many times he visited Nal Hutta, and in the course of his life, Obi-Wan had been several times, he could never shake the urge to shudder at the general dinginess of the planet. Anakin’s least favorite terrain was desert, but Obi-Wan’s was, without a doubt, swampland. The air was close and far too thick, and even the highest, firmest ground felt rotten under his feet, like the killing fields on Jabiim and Umbara.

However, Asajj wanted to meet here, and so here Obi-Wan was. He’d not seen her in months, not since the day after they’d brought Luke and Sabé to the resistance. He understood completely why she’d left, of course. Organizations weren’t really her cup of tea, especially since the last authority figure she’d put her trust in had tried to kill her. Honestly, Obi-Wan considered himself lucky she’d agreed to meet with him at all, let alone join up with a burgeoning military.

He found her at a booth in the Lady Love, one of Bilbousa’s many, many saloons. As he approached her table, something warm and light sparked in his chest, filling out some part of him he hadn’t known was lacking, and, unbidden, the corners of his mouth turned up. He schooled his expression back to neutral, which was easy, seeing as the reaction her presence had caused was deeply troubling. He hadn’t felt such a thing since the last time he’d seen-he stamped down on that train of thought. Perhaps it was best to keep this meeting strictly professional, until he could get a hold of himself.

“Ventress.” he murmured, sliding into the booth across from her. It put his back to the door, but he couldn’t sense any danger here. Asajj smiled, a real one, not the sinister leer she put on before a fight. 

“I even got you a cup of tea. I’d have picked caf for old time’s sake, but the faces you make at it are so very off-putting.” she said, with a nod to the cup across from her on the table, which did appear to be full of tea, Ti’il by the scent. He took a sip, nodding his thanks. Asajj raised her brow expectantly, running a fingertip around the edge of her own glass, which contained a small measure of amber liquor. “So, tell me about this important job you need my help with.”

“Ah.” he said, setting his cup back down. “I’m looking for some Imperial prisoners. They’d be a mix of Mon Cala and Quarren, and they’d be kept in high security, but likely not maximum. They’re Naval officers from Dac, arrested under the Pacification Act.” Asajj leaned back, eyes narrowing to slits.

“Obi-Wan, you know I don’t want to get involved in Imperial business any more than I have to. For the time being, Sidious has forgotten about me, and I’d like to keep it that way.” She scowled. “I’m not going to be captured and _reconditioned,_ not for anything.” Anyone else in the Galaxy would have been fooled by her anger, but Obi-Wan knew her well enough to look further. There was fear in her narrowed eyes, a deep, gripping fear of ending up where she’d been ten years ago, a pawn in Sidious and Dooku’s games. He sighed.

“Obviously it’s your choice, Ventress.” he said, aiming for a reassuring tone. “Mostly I need information. Surely someone in your circle keeps up with intel like this?” 

She exhaled through her nose in sudden dark humor, a smirk curling her lips. “Well, as it happens, I do know someone who might know about Pacification prisoners. I doubt you’ll like it, though, he’s a nasty piece of work, even among hunters.”

Obi-Wan sighed again, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, I have a bad feeling about this.” She let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do.” she said, and tossed back the remainder of her drink. “His name’s Bane.” 

**

The hotel was sleazy, but by the time Asajj had made her call and arranged the meet with Cad Bane, it was well into Nal Hutta’s night cycle, and so she and Obi-Wan decided to leave in the morning together. She wasn’t about to set foot into an Imperial prison, but she wasn’t going to let him go alone to talk with the most cold blooded bounty hunter in the Galaxy, either. 

She couldn’t keep from shifting uneasily back and forth as they waited in the dim lobby. Something was wrong between the two of them, she could sense it. The easy conversation they’d had on Corellia seemed to have evaporated into the air, and it was incredibly irritating. Every awkward exchange felt so wrong, it made her skin crawl. When she’d gotten his comm about wanting her help, she’d been- not excited, because she didn’t get excited about anything anymore, but definitely not unhappy about the prospect of seeing Obi-Wan again. Force, maybe it was just the sex, but she’d kind of missed the damn Jedi. This stilted, stiff Obi-Wan, however, she didn’t know what to do with. When he booked a double room, though, she’d had enough. 

“Alright, Kenobi,” she growled, dropping her work bag on the room’s rather grungy floor. “What is your problem? You haven’t so much as looked me in the eye all day, and since when have we needed two beds?” 

The fingers of his right hand flexed, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable. “There’s nothing _wrong,_ I just don’t think sharing a bed would be a good idea.” As he spoke, her stomach seemed to fill with duracrete. How could she not have realized? Obi-Wan wasn’t about to settle down and buy a house with anyone, of course, but it had been eight months since the last time she’d seen him. He’d taken up with someone else and, damn him, he was too much of a gentleman to sleep with two beings at the same time. It made sense. What didn’t make sense was the way her heart seemed to weigh kilos now that she’d figured it out, nor the sudden strong desire to rip his eyes out of their sockets.

“Oh?” she said, not sure what was driving her to keep talking, or what was making her voice come out so snide. “And why not? Afraid your Rebel isk’aa will find out you slept with a Darksider?” Obi-Wan jerked back, eyebrows jumping nearly to his hairline. 

“What? Ventress, I’m not sleeping with-“ He shook himself and took a seep, calming breath. “I’m not seeing anyone, I just think it would be best, in the interest of my mission, to, ah, to keep things strictly professional between us.” Asajj froze as relief flooded through her at his words, followed by a horrifying realization. 

No. _No,_ she was Asajj Ventress, she was an ex-Sith, a feared bounty hunter, and she did not get jealous at the thought of other beings sharing Obi-Wan Kenobi’s bed. She did _not_ want to cry with relief because he hadn’t taken up with someone else in her absence. 

Except, of course, she did, on both counts. The thought was damning, but also just the slightest bit comforting, because now she _knew._ And Asajj Ventress, for all that she apparently did develop feelings for ridiculous, irritating, ginger-haired Jedi, was, above all, a woman who prided herself on knowing her own mind. The knowledge gave her a purpose, and no way in hell was he weaseling his way out of this conversation now.

“It’s never worried you before, why now? What aren’t you telling me?” she pressed, determined. He raked his hand through his ginger hair and looked directly at her for the first time that day, gray eyes pleading.

“Please don’t ask me that. I-I don’t have an answer for you.” His fingers clenched and unclenched over and over again, the only sign of stress she’d ever seen him show. She shook her head again. 

“I do,” she said, and it was true. She couldn’t read his mind, but she knew her own, and she suspected his distress was coming from the same source as hers. One of them had to do something about it, and it wasn’t going to be Obi-Wan. “I think you realized today that you missed me these past few months, just like I did. I think it scared you. And, I think you’re being utterly ridiculous, and that you should get over here and kiss me.” The last words left her in a rush, almost without her consent, but she was glad she’d said them, for they were the truth. Whatever the future held, she wanted him.

His shoulders slumped in defeat at her words, and he sank slowly onto one of the beds. “I-I can’t.” he whispered. “I can’t feel like this about you, about _anyone._ ” Asajj rolled her eyes and stepped forward, dropping down to the bed across from him. 

“You can.” she murmured, gentle as she could. “Emotions are not inherently evil, Jedi. You risk the Dark far more by fearing it than by accepting the way you feel.” It was a lesson she’d learned the hard way. He looked up from the floor, his face pale and his gray eyes haunted.

“There is no emotion, there is peace.” His voice was a whisper, barely even there. “I am a Jedi Knight, Asajj. I am the last of them, and I cannot turn my back on the Code.” She wanted to smack him, the damned annoying Jedi, but she held herself back, reaching for his hand instead. 

“Obi-Wan, the Jedi Order is not something that ought to be preserved.” Her words were harsh, but her tone was kind, and it was a truth he needed to hear. “Sidious was right in front of you for years, but your Council was too proud to think that it could have been wrong about the Sith. Order 66 struck the final blow, but the Order was dying long before the Republic fell.” He opened his mouth to retort, but she wasn’t done. “The Jedi Order’s chapter has ended, Obi-Wan. Let it go, and let something better come from its end.”

_Something that lets you be happy, for once in your life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! My midterms finally released me from their death-grip, so here's a long chapter! Welcome to the 2nd adventuring arc, in which Ahsoka, her cell, and the OT trio go on a supply mission, Obi-Wan tries to find the Dac Navy, Anakin has a really, rally rough few months, and Padmé is, as always, a flawless queen. 
> 
> Just like always, please let me know what you think, I love your comments!


	11. In Which Mistakes are Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malefus rears his Sithly head, Rex says too much and not enough, Luke has a tragic misunderstanding, and Anakin's life goes on much in the way it has done for the past 20 years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to instate a 'Previously On' segment from here on out, since I 1.Take an age to update, and 2.Have a lot of characters and plots. SO, 
> 
> Previously....The Sith Lord Darth Malefus is charged with capturing Anakin Skywalker alive and returning him to the Emperor, Luke and Leia find a holo of Luke's mom in Leia's dad's pocket, Ahsoka's team, plus former Commander Arana and The Trio, is sent on a supply mission so that Leia (and Luke) are out of harm's way while the proto-rebellion evacuates the old refueling station and moves to Sulon, and Padmé is granted a lucky opportunity to escape Florrum when half the Imperial blockade keeping her there is called away on a mission to Lianna.

9 BBY. The Star Destroyer _Inexorable_

Clearly, Lord Malefus had been summoned from something rather strenuous. He stalked along the bridge catwalk towards Captain Atrela much as normal, but his appearance was anything but. Far from the Dark Lord’s usual poise, today’s Malefus was flushed, his dark curls askew. As he strode overhead, Lieutenant Piett even heard a hitch in the man’s breathing, the barest hint that he was out of breath. All these observations came together in the young Lieutenant’s mind, and he fixed his eyes firmly on his datascreen, praying to all the Axxilan gods that no reports would come up from Comms that required Malefus’ attention. To pull _Inexorable’s_ looming guest from his quarters in such a state, well, suffice to say it would be best for Piett’s immediate health to stay out of his way. 

Apparently the Axxilan Pantheon had a vibro shiv to grind with poor Firmus Piett, though, because less than two minutes after Lord Malefus’ presence darkened the bridge, a Priority One transmission flashed across his screen, blinking laser-green. Piett manfully converted his squeak of horror into a cough and stood, clenching his fists to stop his hands from shaking. Commending his soul to whomever might be listening, he snapped to attention and spoke:

“Transmission from Intelligence for you, M’lord. Shall I forward it along?” Lord Malefus’ head whipped around, his golden eyes skewering Firmus, who was struck with an absurd and highly reckless urge to laugh. The only thought that would go through his head was that Malefus’ eyes clashed horribly with his flushed cheeks.

“Lieutenant Piett, yes?” Without waiting for an affirmative, Malefus continued. “No need to waste the time, give me a verbal report.” Piett blinked twice in rapid succession, his desire to laugh quite diminished and his heart suddenly determined to jump out of his chest. 

“Ahem,” he said articulately, and then his training kicked in. “Comms has received a transmission from planetside intelligence on Taris. An NIO reported a man matching the description of your target boarding a freighter bound for the Lianna system.” Before Malefus could ask, Piett went on. “There is one Victory Class stationed in the sector, M’lord.” 

Malefus nodded sharply, and turned to Atrela. “Captain, set the course. I want a strike team assembled before we arrive, your best marksmen.” Turning back to the terrified Bridge Comms Officer, he snapped, “Lieutenant, contact the nearest battle group, get me a significant presence in the Lianna system.” With a quick nod, Piett sank back into his seat. He permitted himself one shuddering breath of relief as Malefus’ attention turned away from Bridge Crew. Two for two, and his luck was holding for the moment. Nerves somewhat calmed, he set about the task of looking up the nearest battle group. To his further relief, it wasn’t any farther away from Lianna than _Inexorable_ was, though he couldn’t imagine what a backwater like Florrum would need an entire battle group for. Hopefully nothing terribly important, as they were all about to be called on a two-day hyperspace jump to back up Lord Malefus’ Jedi-hunting operation. _Yes,_ thought Piett at the voice in his mind that sounded rather like his grandmother, _I really need to get reassigned._

**

9 BBY. The _Millenium Falcon._

Rex simply couldn’t understand Ahsoka and the General’s fascination with space. No matter how many times he’d traversed the Galaxy, the twisting, chaotic blue field of hyperspace still managed to freak him out. It made no damn sense, the knowledge that he was moving faster than light, that the slightest miscalculation could rip a Star Destroyer apart. In general, the whole notion sent shivers down his rock-jumper’s spine, and given the choice, Rex would choose solid ground beneath his feet every time. 

Hence his presence in the _Falcon’s_ common room, rather than her cockpit. He knew as well as anyone that a ship in hyperspace needed watchful eyes on her systems at all times, and Ahsoka had offered to stay up, knowing how much he hated hyperspace, but she needed rest, and Rex could handle a few hours of unease for her sake. That didn’t mean he was willing to watch it though. He could hear the engines and the navi’s gentle muttering well enough out here, and there were no viewports to remind him that he was hurtling through the vacuum of space at ludicrous speeds. 

Rex sighed and stretched, rolling his shoulders, and, to his momentary surprise, felt no pops or aches. Though he’d stopped aging at double-speed nearly 10 years ago now, it was still hard to get used to having a younger body than expected. By clone standards, after all, Rex should have been well into his forties. By virtue of the Kaminoan’s endless practicality though, he was somewhere in his early thirties. 

_After all,_ he thought bitterly, _what use is a soldier with only five years of prime fighting capability?_

Doing the actual calculations made his head hurt, so he’d long since given up on trying to figure out his age to the year. He shook his head at himself. It wasn’t often that he, or any of his brothers, thought too hard about their own genes, as it tended to lead down pretty dark roads. The late hour and solitude brought out a heavy mood in him, it would seem. 

There was quiet movement in his cabin down the hall, most likely the former Imp. Rex kept an ear out, though he didn’t think anything would come of it. Had the Commander been out here, Arana might have made an appearance, but he doubted very much that the Imp wanted to spend any time with Rex himself. 

Maybe it was the paranoia of an old soldier, but Rex didn’t like Arana. Ahsoka trusted him, and that was good enough, it really was, but still, he, Jesse, and Kix had a real hard time understanding how any being who had any sort of choice in the matter could serve the Empire. After what they’d gone through on Felucia, what their brothers had gone through in the years afterward- no, Rex would never understand kids like Arana, no matter what Ahsoka thought about it. 

And, well, maybe his dislike of Arana had something to do with the young man’s interest in his Commander, too. Just maybe.

Between the late hour, the sounds from the cabin, and Rex’s thoughts, he missed the quiet footsteps until little Leia stopped in the doorway as she caught sight of him, looking rather like a gualama caught in headlights. Rex smiled, and said softly;

“Evening, kid.” She stared at him for just a moment, weighing her options, but then slipped into the common room. 

“I didn’t think anyone would be out here.” she said, cocking her head to the side with a slightly suspicious look in her brown eyes. Rex shrugged.

“Someone’s gotta make sure the navicomputer stays on the right course, or we may not make it to Raxus in one piece.” He chuckled at her increasingly confused expression. “Hyperspace is a dangerous place, kid.” 

“I-I didn’t know.” she looked to the deck, cheeks turning pink. “This is only my third time, and I wasn’t really watching, the other two.” Rex smiled again, without laughing this time.

“It’s a learning experience, then. Nothin’ wrong with that.” Slowly, Leia raised her head again, this time to give him a patented Jedi Look. Like she was taking him apart with her eyes, looking through every piece to see what he was made of. Apparently, she liked what she found, because she eventually hopped up on the sofa next to him. 

“You were friends with my dad, right? Auntie ‘Soka said you were, you and Jesse and Kix too.” Rex nodded, wondering what she was getting at.

“Yeah, General Skywalker and I fought together all through the Clone Wars. I met him on Christophsis, just after he was made a Knight, I think.” This didn’t seem to mean much to Leia, and Rex realized that the General must not have told her much, if anything, about the War. He decided to simplify things. “Your dad saved my life more times than I can count; he’s the best Jedi I ever knew.” That made her smile, and, with a nod of determination, she reached into the pocket of her sleep pants and came out with a holotransmitter. 

“Do you know who this is?” she asked, pressing the activation switch and watching the gowned young woman flicker into holographic being. 

“Sure, she’s a Senator named Padmé Amidala.” he said, seeing no harm in answering. Leia had a right to know the whole truth, really, but there were reasons she didn’t know it, and Rex was nothing if not loyal to Anakin Skywalker. Leia nodded.

“Yeah, I know her name already.” She frowned. “Do you know if Dad knew her?” Rex sighed, internally this time. He couldn’t just come out and tell her, she ought to hear it from her father. But he couldn’t just lie to her either. That wasn’t right, and besides, she’d likely see right through him, Force-sensitive as she was. 

“Padmé was a real popular lady, back during the war.” he said. “The General always liked her, they were good friends. He used to ask me to watch out for her when she was in the field.” There, that seemed safe enough. 

“So lots of people liked her?” asked Leia, still frowning in puzzlement. Rex nodded, smiling at the memory of his General’s wife.

“Yeah, she had this way about her, she was probably the kindest woman I ever met. Your dad used to joke that she was an angel from Iego, taking a visit in the normal Galaxy for a while.” 

“An angel?” asked the little girl. 

“Yeah.” said Rex, still lost in the story. “Immortal creatures from the Thousand Moons. I’ve never seen one, but Senator Amidala’s sure something else. Or, at least she was back then, I haven’t seen her in years.” 

“I know about angels,” said Leia softly. “the spacers talked about them back home.” She looked away, staring off into space. “The most beautiful creatures in the Galaxy.” Rex laughed.

“If any spacer’s ever actually seen an angel, I’ll eat my boot. Senator Amidala always thought it was funny though, she’d smile ear to ear whenever the General made that joke.” Rex grinned outright at the memory of the two of them on the _Jewel of Alderaan,_ Padmé blushing and swatting mock-angrily at her husband’s shoulder while he laughed. 

Leia looked back at the holo, eyes on Padmé’s gently glowing face. After a few minutes of watching, she looked back at Rex. “Thank you for telling me.” she said firmly. “I think I can maybe fall asleep now.” And with that, she hopped down from the sofa and walked out of the common room, headed for her cabin on near-silent feet.

**

“Luke. Luke, wake up, I need to talk to you!” 

Huh. That didn’t sound like it belonged in the meadow at Aunt Sola’s house on Naboo. Besides, Luke wasn’t asleep, he was laughing at a joke his cousin Ryoo had made. 

“Wake up, bantha-brains!” Something grabbed his shoulder, shaking hard, and Varykino blurred into Leia’s annoyed face hovering over him in the dark cabin. Luke blinked at her.

“Wuttimesit?” Leia shrugged, still tugging at his shoulder.

“I dunno, real late. Get up, I need to talk to you, and I don’t wanna wake up Han.” she whispered, and Luke was up before he even really thought about it. He was sleepy, sure, but Leia was his best friend.

He followed Leia through the ship’s corridors, heading, not for the common or the the cockpit, but towards the back of the ship, where the engines were. She wove her way through the _Falcon's_ tiny maintenance tunnels with no problem, and Luke found himself mirroring her actions to avoid the exposed piping as they wriggled through the access hatches. Finally, Leia squeezed through a hatch that was definitely too small for anyone but the two of them, and Luke followed to find himself in a crawl space that was just big enough to sit in, if he set his back against one wall and his toes on the pipe opposite. Leia arranged herself so that she was facing him and pulled out the Holo, turning it on to light the crawl space. Then, only then, did she look at Luke. 

“I think you’re my brother.” 

“What?” Luke stared at her, not understanding. 

“Just-“ she took a deep breath. “Just listen, okay?”

Confused and a little worried about Leia's expression, Luke nodded. “Okay.” 

“Earlier, I couldn’t sleep, so I went out into the common room to sit, and I found Captain Rex up there. I remembered that he and Dad were friends too, so I asked him about the Holo. He said the same thing Auntie did, that your mom and my dad were friends. He also said that Dad always asked him to look after your mom on their missions and stuff in the war.”

“Leia, that doesn’t mean-“ began Luke, but Leia cut him off, waving her arm impatiently.

“No, I’m not done yet. Rex said that Senator Amidala was the nicest person he knew. She took a deep, nervous breath. “Luke, he told me that Dad used to call her an angel.”

“So?”

“So, whenever I ask Dad about my mother, he always says the same thing. He says she was kind and beautiful, and then he gets this dopey look on his face and he says that she was an angel.” Luke opened his mouth, skeptical, but Leia still wasn’t finished. “It can’t be a coincidence, can it? That’s what he used to call my mom!” 

“I’m not sure.” said Luke slowly. 

“Well, what does your mom tell you when you ask about your dad, huh?” 

Luke thought about it. “She says he was a pilot, that he flew a starfighter in the Clone Wars.” She had no holos, not even one picture of dad, she’d said she’d lost them a long time ago. “She told me they met on a faraway planet when they were just kids, and that my dad thought she was-was…” _an angel._ That was what Mom had said when he’d asked how she met Dad. 

“Was what?” asked Leia. Luke reached out to the holo of his mother, younger than Luke had ever seen her, speaking in the Senate, something she’d never, ever, done, not since Luke had been born. What had changed, from back then?

“An angel. The first thing he ever said to her was ‘Are you an angel?’” Leia reached for his hand.

“Dad’s a pilot, an ace one.” she said slowly. “Sometimes he’d fly people’s ships after he fixed ‘em, he’s really, really good.” She squeezed his hand. “It has to be true. Your mom and my dad, they’re together. We’re twins, Luke. My birthday’s three days after Empire Day, and yours is too, isn’t it?”

It was. Mom was always sort of sad on Luke’s birthday, he’d never understood why, but he’d known it had something to do with Empire Day.

Luke nodded. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t even think clearly for the light, full feeling in his chest. A family, a sister and a father. And then, one horrifying realization vaporized all of it.

“Leia, wait.” he stared at her, desperately hoping she’d tell him all the reasons he couldn’t be right. “If we’re brother and sister, if my mom and your dad are together, then why aren’t we a family? Why did we live on Coruscant and you on Tatooine?” When Leia didn’t answer, Luke kept talking; he couldn’t stop. “Leia, our parents aren’t together. Not anymore. What if they don’t love each other any more? What-what if they didn’t want both of us and that’s why they never told us?” 

**

9 BBY. Lianna, City of Lola Curich. 

Though, like almost every other planet in the known Galaxy, Lianna was under the control of the Empire, it enjoyed privileges otherwise unknown outside of the Inner Core. At the demand of Sienar Fleet Technologies, who held contract with the Imperial Navy, there was no permanent Imperial military presence in system, though of course, the Empire was welcome anytime. As such, the inhabitants of Lianna, specifically of Lianna City and Lola Curich, found it quite odd and not a little disconcerting when, at just after 0900 GST, an Imperial battle group, plus an extra Star Destroyer, jumped out of hyperspace and deployed troop carriers. So too, did a certain freighter Captain when she jumped into the system nearly six hours later. Fortunately for her (but not for the man currently hiding in her cargo hold), experience kept her from panicking at the sight of the looming Destroyers. The Captain instead very calmly transmitted her false transponder codes, which, as per usual -they were very good codes,- fooled the Imperial scanners, and got her past the warships with no problem. She had no way of knowing, of course, that an ensign aboard the point Star Destroyer flagged her ship as a match for the cargo transport suspected to be carrying one Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.

Blissfully unaware of the Imperial eyes on her, the freighter captain made her way to the planet’s surface, docked in Lola Curich’s spaceport, bribed the Customs Officer on duty, and oversaw the unloading of her cargo, tariff free and bound for Lianna’s flourishing black market. If anyone on her crew noticed the stranger who slipped out of the cargo hold before unloading began, they didn’t say anything. Unfortunately for the aforementioned stranger though, the freighter crew’s were not the only prying eyes to avoid.

** 

Less than 30 seconds after ducking out of the smuggling freighter, Anakin figured out where he was. Lianna, after all, was one of the few planets he’d paid attention to in the Temple’s Xenogeography and Galactic Economics class. And, of course, everyone at the Temple knew of the battle of Lianna, one of the first of the Clone Wars.

Though not entirely recovered from the war, Lianna was still prettier than Anakin was used to. There were no crude pourstone huts or smoky spice dens on these streets, oh no, Lola Curich was constructed from white elerite, one of Lianna’s many, many natural resources. From the banks of the clear-as-glass river between Lola Curich and her sister city to the wide open flatlands that made up much of Lianna’s surface, there was something undeniably graceful about the planet. Then again, centuries of Sienar profits would do that to a system. Anakin hadn’t been around this much legitimately made money since Coruscant, and maybe not even then. 

Building starships, as it turned out, was far more profitable than simply fixing them, and Anakin allowed himself a moment of wishful thinking as he strolled between tall white buildings. Unfortunately, he doubted that the Galactic Empire would be willing to buy warship engines from a former Jedi. 

Despite his bruised ribs and generally sore joints, Anakin was in a good mood, the best in months, really. There was no significant reason to be in a good mood, as Lianna, in all likelihood, did not hold the key to finding his wife, but hey, at least he could stretch his legs and no one was going to try and sell him deathsticks. 

It was the little things, really.

He had some vague thoughts of eating real food and sleeping in a real bed as he navigated the wide sidewalks, enjoying the sounds of friendly commerce, and it was then that he caught one very familiar name.

“-Amidala, yes, I heard-“ and then the voice was gone, but Anakin already knew where it had come from. 

The speaker was an average looking human male, dressed smartly, looking utterly normal on the Liann streets. More normal than Anakin himself, who had been living rough recently and looked it. Almost unconsciously, Anakin turned to follow him. Something desperate and not a little reckless drove him, his exhaustion and aches forgotten in his determination. The Force rushed in heavy currents around him, and he _knew._ Today was the day.

He followed the man at a discreet distance, waiting for an opportunity to speak with him alone. The man walked with an easy, measured stride through Lola Curich, headed southeast. Had Anakin taken a minute to think, he’d have found something familiar about the man’s purposeful stride and impeccable posture, for he carried himself like a career soldier. However, Anakin had very rarely in the course of his life stopped to consider his actions, and most of the times he had done so involved Obi-Wan or Padmé. As such, Anakin merely followed his lead as the man walked onward into the older, peripheral parts of Lola Curich, where Sienar headquarters had been located before the battle of Lianna. 

There were still people about, though not nearly as many as in the city center, and Anakin’s blood sang at the prospect of finally, finally, having a solid lead. At last, on a well lit but narrow side street, his quarry disappeared into the old Sienar assembly facility, and Anakin made to follow. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the disquiet in the Force, but this was too important. A bad feeling was not going to deter him from following a lead, however slim, not when it might take him to Padmé. Besides, Lianna didn’t even have a Stormtrooper garrison, the worst he’d find in here would be local security.

Of course, because if there is one thing Galactic historians can agree upon, it is that the Universe positively hates the Skywalker family, Anakin did not find local security in the dimly lit factory beyond the door. 

The man he’d followed here had disappeared, likely into what must have been a full battalion of Stormtroopers, but Anakin had attention only for the tall, black-clad figure who stood at their head. He was human, close to Anakin’s own age, and as the last vestiges of Anakin’s good mood evaporated, the Sith Lord’s red lightsaber came to life with a hiss, casting a bloody light on the assembly machines around him. 

Already reaching for his own lightsaber, Anakin sighed, frustration with the Universe as a whole slightly reigned in by the knowledge that he had only himself to blame for what was about to happen.

“Karking hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now accepting predictions for how this fight is going to go. 
> 
> Also, I suck and I'm very sorry about the 2.5 month wait. I'm trying, I promise. It's also been almost a year since I posted the first chapter of 'High Stakes,' so that's exciting.
> 
> As always, please comment, even if it's just to yell at me for procrastinating.


	12. Give My Regards to Florrum

9 BBY. Florrum.

In the end, Padmé had wrangled a Starhopper out of Hondo’s shipmaster and mechanic. It wasn’t as nimble as the N-1s she was used to, but there was room in the little cargo hold for poor Threepio, who had been deactivated for much of the past eight months. Padmé was fond of the droid to the point that his worrying was endearing, but the pirates she shared a compound with were decidedly not, and more often than not, the compound didn’t have the power reserves to keep a protocol droid charged anyway. She had also salvaged two of her more practical gowns from her shuttle, and negotiated a pair of blasters out of Hondo, which were strapped conveniently to her thighs. Now, the only thing standing (or floating, as it were) between Padmé and her son was half an Imperial blockade.

Somewhere below her fighter, Hondo’s remaining crews lifted off in their flat light cruisers. As of now, she was the only starfighter, but that would change before they engaged the Imperial fleet.

As she pushed the Starhopper higher into Florrum’s atmosphere, she indulged in a look back at the little compound in the plains; her home for nearly a year. She could now honestly say she was friends with a number of pirates. And not ‘pirates,’ of the sort that only stole from the bad guys, either. Honest-to-Goddess drug-dealing pirates. And she liked them, maybe even trusted one or two. In fact, she’d been catching herself lately, wondering if Hondo and his men might consider joining the rebellion. It was stupid, the sort of naïve thinking that had gotten her into trouble as a young Senator, but dammit, she’d miss them.

Then again, if all went well, she’d be joining the criminal underworld herself, and she’d likely see them again someday. She had no illusions about the fight against the Empire. it wouldn’t be a clean ‘good vs evil’ fight; those didn’t exist outside the superhero holoseries that Luke loved so much. She knew that was what Bail wanted; a clean war he could feel good about. Bail was an idealist, and once upon a time, when she’d been a Galactic Senator, she’d have called herself one too. Now though, she’d stood in silent acquiescence to the death of worlds, she knew what it was to love so fiercely that it overcame her sense of duty, and she’d smuggled the odd crate of spice, too. Padmé was no angel, and the rebellion her friends were planning was no crusade, either.

Whether or not they realized it, that was the issue.

The trip through the atmosphere was a quick one, and her train of thought was cut off by the thinning of the yellow clouds. Around her, twelve starfighters of various size, shape, and vintage joined her in the sky. She fell in with them as they spiraled upward, toward the vacuum of space. Padmé’s fingers twitched on the controls. This was her first combat mission in years, and the first time she’d flown a fighter in more than that. Taking a deep breath, she tuned her headset comm to the correct frequency. After all, even ragtag, mismatched fighter squadrons needed to communicate.

“Raider 6, checking in.” she added to the litany, powering up her deflector shields.

“Right, star jockeys,” called Raider 1 in a gravelly, but unmistakably female voice. “our job is to keep the enemy fighters away from the Captain’s cruisers so they can blow us a hole through what’s left of the blockade. Form up on me until the shooting starts, then split into groups of two or three, watch each other’s backs.”

“Bait,” muttered Padmé to herself, rolling her eyes. “my favorite role to play.” She tightened her grip on the Starhopper’s controls and dipped into formation on Raider 4’s port wing, close enough to see Onyo wave at her from inside his cockpit. The thirteen pirate fighters coalesced into a wide wedge, with Raider 1’s Hunter-Killer in point position. Padmé raised her eyebrows at two repainted-and likely heavily modified-Headhunters to starboard, idly wondering which poor Republic pilots they’d been stolen from.  
Just after the last fighter slipped into the mismatched squadron, the little air remaining gave way to vacuum, and the Imperial blockade appeared on Padmé’s scopes, a blinking constellation of red lights on her sensor display. Her fingers twitched again, in anticipation this time, but she held her position on Raider 4’s wing and waited for the inevitable first shot.

“Personal spacecraft, identify yourselves.” The voice was clipped and professional; the comms officer sounded almost bored. Over their squadron frequency, Raider 1 ordered;

“Radio silence, kids, don’t give ‘em advance notice.”

The thirteen fighters advanced steadily, holding formation, and the comms officer spoke again, sounding far more interested this time.

“Personal spacecraft, be advised: if you do not transmit identification codes immediately, this battle group is authorized to use deadly force.”

“This is it, boys!” said Raider 1, and Padmé could hear her savage grin through the headset. “Break off, let’s draw some fire!”  
With that, the wedge broke into pairs and threes, splitting apart like torn fabric. Padmé wrenched the Starhopper to port, following Raider 4 as green bolts streaked around them. The blockade was rapidly deploying fighters, and already, Hondo’s cruisers were firing back, red and green streaks of light marking out a deadly crossfire in the center of the battle. She and Raider 4 kept well clear of the melee as TIEs rocketed out of the Destroyers’ hangars.

“Shall we pick off some fighters, 4?” she asked.

“Aye, sounds fun!” came the answer from Onyo, and the pair of fighters wheeled about, streaking for the deploying TIE squadrons.

It was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying; she reacted out of instinct in order to dodge the stray laser bolts, pushing the Starhopper to match Raider 4’s speed as they shot towards the TIE squad. As soon as they were in range, Padmé opened fire, sending her own red bolts at the enemy fighters. She scored a solid hit and knocked a TIE off course, but she didn’t see what happened after that; they’d already shot overhead, calculating another pass. Beside her, Onyo actually tipped his fighter and waggled his starboard wing mockingly at the TIEs behind them as they flew by.

It was more than enough incentive; the four Imperial fighters gave chase. Padmé and her wingmate led them in a quick chase, ducking in and out of the other little dogfights, harrying where they could and keeping out of the TIE squad’s targeting locks. So far so good, it seemed. Hondo’s cruiser, in point position, was hammering the smallest of the Imperial ships, and looked to be giving better than she got, judging by the glimpses she got as her ship shot past the action. She and Onyo had just managed to lure one of their pursuing TIE squad into a headlong collision with one of its own light cruisers when a comms operator on their side barked,

“Raider 4, Raider 6, could use some help off Scimitar’s bow.”

“On our way.” responded Padmé, already pulling the Starhopper around in a tight hairpin dive. The pursuing TIEs, now down to two, scattered out of her line of fire, but not quite fast enough. She clipped one outsized wing, sending the unfortunate fighter into a death spiral that ended in a bright flash of green and white light as it spun into the crossfire between the cruisers.

A cloud of TIEs was indeed swirling around two pirate fighters near the pirate cruiser Scimitar, and Padmé dove into the fray with no hesitation, blasting her way through three of the enemy ships. She thanked the goddesses and Sabé’s flight sims as they went up in bright explosions. There was no room for remorse, not until she was out of danger.

Behind her, Onyo sent his fighter into a screaming dive to avoid a barrage of green lasers. He pulled up sharp, firing a salvo of blue lasers. They didn’t hit anything, but he succeeded in scattering the enemy TIEs even further apart. Their formation was now utterly broken, giving the pinned pirate ships room to maneuver.

There was a relieved voice on the comm, but Padmé didn’t have any attention to spare. A tight grouping of lasers was blasting her way, fired from one of the Imperial cruisers. She wrenched the controls to the side, praying she was fast enough. One bolt clipped the ventral sensors as the Starhopper rolled to the side, and an alarm whistled at her. Padmé swore under her breath, reaching for the aft sensor controls. She powered them up as much as she dared, hoping it would be enough to compensate.

“You all right, 6?” came Onyo’s voice over the comm.

“I’ve been better, but I’ve got it locked down.” she answered, breathless with adrenaline. This fight couldn’t go on much longer; the pirate fighters couldn’t compete with the TIEs for any significant length of time. They’d already lost close to half their numbers, each death signified by a flash of light and a burst of static in the comm channel. The Starhopper was beginning to protest at Padmé’s pushing, and it was only a matter of time before she started to lose maneuverability.

Was this what it was like for Anakin? Goddess above, how could he enjoy this chaos?

Finally, after what seemed like hours, though she knew it had only been a few minutes, the smallest Imperial cruiser’s deflector shields failed and it lit up Padmé’s targeting computer like a beacon. Instants later, it broke apart under heavy fire from Hondo’s three light cruisers and the flaming wreckage began to sink towards Florrum. Padmé and the pirates pressed their sudden advantage, blasting their way through the remains of the skeletal blockade. TIEs pursued, but the fight had ended with the little cruiser’s destruction. One by one, the pirate ships slipped through the hole they’d made, and the fighters followed.

With relief flooding her veins, Padmé plugged the coordinates to Chandrila into her navicomputer. Mon’s contact there would know where to find the rebellion, and with it, Goddess willing, she’d find Sabé and Luke.

Despite the grim scene she left behind, Padmé smiled as the Starhopper jerked into hyperspace. She’d done it. After eight months of endless frustration, she was on her way back to her son.

**

9 BBY. Sulon, the Nefra Canyon Network.

Bail’s desk was a large, mostly flat chunk of red sandstone, and his office was a cave, but hey, they’d be safe here, at least for a time. The resistance forces had arrived on Sulon only hours before, after nearly a week of deep-space jumps, and Bail was too happy to be breathing fresh, non-recycled air to fret over the state of his makeshift office. The Nefra canyons were an excellent hiding spot, scouted by Dodonna’s recon units a few months ago. The extensive cave networks made it ideal for the resistance, and the thick stone masked much of their power signatures and internal transmissions from prying eyes.

All in all, Bail was having a nice afternoon. Though Sulon’s surface was humid and warm, the caves circulated a constant cool breeze, and the chaos of moving gave him the perfect excuse to avoid his more tedious work. Unfortunately, he reflected as he looked at his blinking comms array, there were some decisions that couldn’t be put off any further.  
The message had been waiting for him upon realspace reentry. It was short and to the point, the sort of courteous invitation he’d received more times than he could count in his time as a Senator. Granted, his Coruscanti invitations were generally to dinners and galas, and this one was to a meeting of significant rebel groups from across the Galaxy, but still, it gave him an odd sense of déjà vu.

Bail knew, of course, that his group of rebels was far from alone in the Galaxy; he’d been making overtures to Ferus Olin’s band on Bellassa for months now, but the idea of meeting them all face to face was daunting, to say the least. Some would be like Olin’s group, similar to Bail’s own, but more would not. The only thing they all had in common was a hatred for the Empire.

No, if he was going to go to this meeting, he wanted powerful friends. His little band of spies and refugees needed all the help it could get, but Bail was simply not willing to relinquish his position as leader to some Separatist holdout, nor yet to a terrorist like Bo Katan Kryze. Unfortunately, while Bail had a number of famous friends, none of them would be able to accompany him to the meet. Mon, after all, was needed on Dac, Padmé was missing in action, and his Jedi friends were otherwise occupied on missions of their own. With a heavy sigh, Bail dropped his forehead into his hands. Why couldn’t a solution just drop into his lap, the way they always did for holomovie heroes?

Times like these made him miss Breha more than usual. She’d been raised with politics; she always, always knew what to do. Bail would never understand what she’d seen in him all those years ago, but she’d made him into the diplomat he was today. Though now, as he thought of his whip-smart wife, he found he knew what she’d say.

_Space it. I’m going._

With his decision came new energy, which was good, as attending a gathering of traitors required quite a bit of planning. His first order of business was to pick out a delegation. He couldn’t count on his friends for help, the conference was in a week’s time on Corellia, and there was no guarantee that Ahsoka or Obi-Wan would be back by then. Still, he commed Mon and told her of his decision to go. Her smile was somewhere between excited and predatory, but then Mon had always been a little vindictive when it came to those she hated.

“Good,” she said now, leaning forward, “This is the first step towards real legitimacy. At the very least, we’ll make some new friends, and at best-“ Her eyes were shining with hope as she went on. “Bail, we could have a real force to be reckoned with.”

“I need more pull,” he said, “Some of these groups will be serious extremists, I can’t let us become beholden to them. If you or Padmé were here-“ he trailed off, frustrated.

“I know,” murmured Mon, “I’d be there if I could, believe me. And Padmé-“ she shook her head, sighing. “Padmé ought to be there, this is her fight too.” Bail opened his mouth to agree, but then he was struck by a surge of inspiration. He grinned, slow and victorious.

“Go on, my friend,” said Mon softly. “See to that idea you just had.” She gave him a warm smile, and cut the connection with a wave. Still grinning, Bail called his messenger in.

“Go and find Sabé Vertie,” he said firmly. “I need her assistance immediately.” As the boy, the teenaged son of an escaped political prisoner, departed, Bail sank into his desk chair and allowed himself a deep, relaxing breath. A few more hours of planning, and he could head for his bunk for the night, carried to sleep by a good day’s work.  
And of course, because if the Force actually exists as a sentient entity, its favorite hobby is, without a doubt, screwing with Bail Organa, Sabé hadn’t even arrived in his office before the intelligence report flagging the Star Destroyer Inexorable’s sudden relocation to the Lianna system came through and threw a spanner in his plans. This couldn’t wait for a messenger, so Bail punched the Ops Commander’s frequency into his personal comm and barked, too on edge for a greeting,

“Commander, I need an Extraction Team up here, now. I’ve got a priority alpha mission.”

**

9 BBY. Raxus, City of Tamwith Bay.

Raxus, as it turned out, was Galactic for ‘fanciest planet ever.’ In less than two hours dirtside, several billion credits had flown in and out of Tamwith Bay, and Han felt extraordinarily out of place in his shabby cargo trousers and too-big boots. He shoved his hands into his pockets and scuffed one foot back and forth against the spaceport’s smooth, not-covered-in-unidentifiable-substances floor and wished he knew how to act. After all, if he had any idea how civilized beings acted, maybe he’d be on the cool-as-all-hells undercover cargo pickup instead of here watching the ship. Kriff’s sake, Luke’d had to learn code words and everything, and Han was stuck babysitting the Falcon and the other member of their party who didn’t have any idea how to order a fancy caf or wear silk slippers or whatever it was that rich beings did.

Han was distracted from his brooding by a bony elbow in his ribs, and he manfully refrained from jumping six feet in the air, choosing instead to glare down at said fellow Ruffian.

“What?” he snapped (didn’t yelp, didn’t, shut up). Her Tiny, Grubby Majesty glared right back. “This is the worst mission ever.” she said. “Even Luke got to go with them, and he has no idea how to shoot a blaster or-or-anything!” Han sighed. The Twin Terrors had been weird ever since this morning on the ship, barely talking to each other and coming up with excuses to hang around with other people during the approach to the planet. Now, apparently, they’d graduated to insults. “Hey, what’s goin’ on with you and him, huh?” Ignoring her little huff of annoyance, he continued. “Yesterday I couldn’t pay you to quit bouncing off the Falcon’s bulkheads playin’ tag and today you haven’t said a good word for him. Did he insult Tatooine or what?” Leia renewed her glare, but after a moment, she sighed.

“No, he’s being stupid about stuff.”

“Oh, gee, Your Worship, that was so helpful. You teach classes on how to answer questions?” For that, Leia drew back her small foot and kicked him, hard, in the shin. “Ow, hey!”

“Shut up, Laser Brain, I wasn’t done yet!” she snapped. “I figured out why that holo of Luke’s mom was in Dad’s stuff. Or, at least I think I did. I have to ask Dad to be sure, but I’m pretty sure Luke and I are twins.” Han’s jaw dropped.

“But you-“

“No, listen.” She cut him off. “It all makes sense, but Luke thinks Dad and his mom don’t love each other anymore, or that Dad didn’t want him around or something, and he won’t listen when I try to tell him he’s being stupid.”

“Yeah, I’d say you’re on the right side of that fight, kid.” said Han. From what Han knew of Anakin Skywalker, there’s no way in the nine hells he wouldn’t want his kids around, whatever his feelings about their mom. Leia’s eyes flicked to the ground and back.

“I mean,” she said, voice going soft. “my mom would’ve wanted me, right?” She looked suddenly very small and every inch her age. Han grinned.

”Course she did, who wouldn’t want you around? After all, ‘s’not like you could be all annoying and violent when you were just a baby, right?” And that brought the glare back, just like he’d meant it to.

Better angry than sad, sad’ll get you a whole lotta nowhere.

“Bantha brains,” she said, still scowling, “why do you always have to be so-“ and then her eyes went wide. “Shavit! Troopers!”


	13. A Diet of Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there are any substantive changes to this one, but the order of scenes is a lil different.

9 BBY. Raxus. City of Tamwith Bay.

Ruwee was being uncharacteristically quiet.

Ahsoka knew she’d been less than cheery for the kids, but between planning her op and wrangling her fractious team, she simply hadn’t had time to put on her smiling auntie face lately. Still, Ruwee’s behavior was impossible to miss. Normally, the kid was like a miniature sun, all smiles and boundless energy that made Ahsoka miss her own childhood. Today, with his dour expression, he looked much more like his mother than usual. Maybe he missed Sabé. Though she ran the occasional errand for Bail, the woman seemed highly reluctant to leave Ruwee for longer than a day or so; this trip had to be the longest stretch of time they’d been apart in months.

“Chin up, little one,” she murmured “You’re a happy kid on vacation today, right?” Ruwee blinked up at her, then nodded and very deliberately smiled, wide and genuine. Had she not known better, Ahsoka would have thought it real. She grinned back, keeping her misgivings hidden. It had been Former Commander Arana’s idea to bring Ruwee along into the city, and she wasn’t entirely sure the deflection of suspicion bought by his presence was worth the danger he was in, however potential it might be. Mashan’s death still hung heavy on her heart, and she’d be far happier to have Ruwee safe on the ship with Han and Leia.

Rex’s voice crackled against her montrals, drawing her from her thoughts. “Potential target spotted.” he said. “Preparing to engage.” She turned, ostensibly looking for a waiter, and saw Rex and his brothers approach a short Rodian in a blue scarf. He bent down a touch to speak to him and after a moment, the Rodian nodded. Rex smiled tightly and shot Ahsoka a hand signal before following their contact down the street. As the pair walked, Ko-Iri and Arana pushed away from the buildings they’d been watching from and followed at a discreet distance. After a moment, Ahsoka took Ruwee’s hand and followed along, making sure to keep Ko-Iri’s bright head in sight.

Their contact took them not to the main spaceport, but to a tiny, privately owned landing strip at the back of an equally tiny warehouse. Had to be some obnoxiously rich trader’s private customs house. Ahsoka shook her head, half annoyed and half relieved. There was something to be said for Raxus and its extreme insistence on corporate privacy. On any other Mid-Rim world, this place wouldn’t exist, and on the off-chance it did, it’d be crawling with Imperials. Their cargo was waiting in the warehouse as agreed upon, a few months’ worth of food and medical supplies, critical for their friends on Sulon. The Rodian nodded at the rest of the team as they came in, and gestured to the crates, already loaded on a gravsled.

“As you can see, the agreed upon cargo is all here.” He said. “My employer said the payment was to be in information?” Rex nodded. This was his negotiation, had been since the beginning, so for the day, he was in charge. Besides, the less memorable they were, the better, and people tended to remember Ahsoka. Rex, Jesse, and Kix, less so, at least when Jesse kept his tattoo hidden. The Galaxy seemed intent upon forgetting that clones had ever existed, ever been bred for war and death by the Senate and Jedi.

“Your blackmail, as promised.” Said Rex, holding out a datachip. Though not exactly noble, corporate espionage was a pretty good way to pay for food, which, meant their dirt-poor resistance movement did kind of a lot of it. That was a main reason Ahsoka hadn’t brought the kids along on a supply run before now. They had a bright-eyed idealistic view of the resistance forces, and she hated to make them grow up any faster than they already were. Sure enough, Ruwee went stiff at her side, eyes narrowed at Rex and the Rodian, who had by now taken the chip and handed Rex the ignition chip for the sled.

“Enjoy your spoils, friend. My employer hopes you will see us again.”

He’d already turned to leave the warehouse when the Force twanged around her like an abused viol string, harsh and heavy with warning. Her hand shot to her blaster grip as the warehouse door exploded inwards in a cloud of choking white smoke and Stormtroopers boiled through the gap.

“Imperial agents! On your knees, now!” barked a tinny voice. Ahsoka couldn’t see through the smoke, but she heard loud and clear, Jesse’s voice in response;

“At least buy me dinner first, Egg-Head!”

This statement was immediately followed by blasterfire, so Ahsoka wrapped an arm around Ruwee’s stomach and hauled him behind the gravsled, swearing an internal blue streak. Yep, nope, she was never taking another minor anywhere, ever.

“Stay low.” She hissed, and Ruweee nodded. “You know how to use this?” she asked, pulling her tiny holdout blaster. Another nod.

“Mom taught me what all the pieces are.” He whispered. Ahsoka flipped the gun’s setting to Stun and pressed it into his hands. Sabé was going to kill her anyway, might as well be skinned for a nexu, not a pitten.

“Don’t shoot anyone who isn’t an Imp, okay?”

Ahsoka tumbled out from behind the sled and found the smoke had cleared enough to get a look at the situation. Thank the Force, Ko-Iri hadn’t drawn her ‘saber, but was covering Jesse with a blaster while he reloaded, and Rex, wearing a deeply put-upon expression, was flat against the warehouse wall, laying down cover fire as Arana sprinted across the open space, headed for the cover of the two speeders parked in the corner. The Rodian messenger, apparently not a fighter, was flat on his stomach with his hands over his head in another corner.

Good news, there was only one squad of troopers, and they were the softer Customs boys, not seasoned soldiers. Now that the shooting had started and hadn’t immediately stopped again, they were way, way out of their depth. Standard six-week boot camp training didn’t prepare a being for an actual fight, and Ahsoka’s team had a lifetime of experience between them.

“Keep at least one alive.” She ordered over comms, and caught Rex’s affirmative nod. His next shot was aimed, not a stun bolt, they didn’t have time to wait for the trooper to wake up, but a clean shot through the trooper Captain’s thigh. The Captain, female by build, dropped with a scream, clutching at the glowing wound. Ahsoka ducked an errant red streak, and spared a second to make sure Ruwee was still behind the sled, out of her line of sight, before she put a blaster bolt into a white breastplate. This was traumatizing enough already, the kid didn’t need to see anything more. As though her kill shot had been a signal, Kix and Jesse took aim at white helmets next, and, as per usual, found them, dropping two more troopers with little ceremony and even less noise. Now down four, the remaining troopers decided to cut their losses and someone, probably the Sergeant, howled,

“Retreat, retreat!” And normally, normally, Ahsoka would let them go. She wasn’t fond of shooting beings in the back, not even Imperials. But not today, not without knowing why they’d raided the warehouse. Because it could be coincidence, but Ahsoka couldn’t afford to stake her life, nor the lives of her team, on that chance. She locked eyes with Rex over the empty space. 

He nodded, just barely, and shot a fleeing Stormtrooper through the spine.

He’d given her orders in his actions, so she didn’t have to speak them in front of Ruwee, and her squad followed them. The last three men died in seconds. No sooner had the last fallen than Ahsoka rose out of her crouch and went straight to Ruwee’s position before he could move. He was sitting where she’d left him, holding her blaster with a set, determined look on his white face.

Sabé was going to _kill_ her.

“Hey, kid.” She murmured, sinking to one knee in front of him, gesturing to the blaster. “Can I have that back?” Ruwee’s eyes snapped up to hers, looking wild, and he said, voice soft and young,

“They’re all-they’re all dead.” It wasn’t a question, and all of a sudden, Ahsoka realized the cold aura in the room was more than Ko-Iri’s adrenaline, more than the heavy echo of recent, violent death in the Force. All of that was there, of course, but so, too, was a child’s shock and raw horror. And Leia wasn’t here, so it had to be emanating from the boy.

Ruwee was Force-sensitive. And now that she’d realized, he felt almost-familiar. Almost like-

Ruwee was. Ruwee was. A fake name, apparently. She was going to have words with Obi-Wan over this, thank you very much.

Ruwee-no, Luke, _Luke_ was still staring, wide-eyed and scared.

Ahsoka shook herself, shoved her outrage into a corner to deal with later, and projected a wash of calm into the Force, felt it wrap, gentle and warm, around Luke’s mind, and saw some of the wild terror go from the boy’s face.

“I’m sorry you saw this.” She said, laying one hand along his cheek and tugging the holdout blaster out of his slack grip with the other. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this situation, and I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me. If you’ll shut your eyes for me, we’ll go, okay?” There was the injured trooper Captain to consider, and questions that needed answering, but Rex could handle that. The kid came first.

“Back to the ship?” asked Luke, apprehensive. Ahsoka nodded.

“Straight back, I swear. We’ll wait for everyone else with Leia and Han.” Luke grabbed her hand and shut his eyes.

“Tell me when we’re outside again?” Ahsoka squeezed his hand.

“Sure, kid. Sure.” She led Luke out from behind the gravsled and to the warehouse door, pausing only to exchange a look and a couple of hand signals with Rex, telling him to finish the op.

Thankfully, it was a pleasant day on Raxus; the mild sunshine saturating the narrow access alley outside created a night-and-day contrast to the cramped, scorched dark of the warehouse. Ahsoka walked until they were far enough from the doorway that the silhouettes of fallen troopers were indistinguishable from the general dark, and then told Luke to open his eyes again. He did so immediately, blinking in the sun. After a few minutes of walking, he said,

“Can you talk? ‘S really quiet.” Ahsoka obliged, and passed the rest of the walk back to the Falcon by detailing the Interceptor she’d flown in the War for him, sketching the ship with her hands in midair as they walked. He listened with a look of intense focus on his face, gradually relaxing as she spoke. By the time they ducked into Tamwith Bay Spaceport, he’d even started asking questions again, making Ahsoka marvel once again at the resilience of children.

So, of course, that was when she noticed how there were definitely not two loud, dark-haired kids hanging around the Falcon where she’d left them.

Haar’chak, could _nothing_ go her way today?

**

9 BBY. The Outer Rim.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” said Obi-Wan, looking down at the forbidding mountain stronghold in which Cad Bane had agreed to meet them.

Beside him, Asajj rolled her eyes. “I wish you’d stop saying that. It always seems to attract trouble.” Obi-Wan shrugged, squinting against the sharp glare of the fluorescent landing lights as he brought his borrowed freighter down onto the landing platform, which was little more than a narrow ledge over a deep river gorge. The river itself had long since given way to dry rock, but the leaden cloud cover above told him the planet’s climate was far from dry. Ordinarily, of course, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have spent so much time observing the climate of the  
random Outer Rim world he’d found himself on, but today he had quite a bit to avoid thinking about, not the least of which was Cad Bane.

Asajj had waited for nearly five full minutes, while Obi-Wan tried to come up with something to say to her gentle command. Eventually, though, she’d given up and gone to sleep, her back to him. Try as he might, Obi-Wan still didn’t know what to say. In a flash, he’d been forced to recognize a number of things; first, that he knew Asajj better than anyone else in the Galaxy, that despite her rough and broken edges, he found her engaging and spirited, and, most disturbingly, he’d well and truly missed her, to the point that her absence had had a significant effect on him.

The feelings he had for her were different, he thought, than what he’d felt with Siri and Satine. He’d been a boy when he’d met them; with no idea of the sort of suffering life could hold. If he was honest with himself, Asajj had been right in saying that the Jedi Order was dead. Had he been Anakin, whose very identity depended on his love for others, that would have been more than enough reason to throw caution to the winds.

For better or worse though, Obi-Wan was not Anakin, and he’d been through too much loss and heartbreak to dive headfirst into another emotional entanglement. Beyond that, he was still a Jedi, with or without an Order, and to contemplate purposefully engaging in an emotional attachment was simply abhorrent to him. His mind just shied away from any thought of Asajj in that light.

And yet.

He missed her. He missed her sharp tongue and her solid, cool presence in the Force beside him. Too often in the past months, he’d made a dry, dark joke to blank stares and thought, she’d have enjoyed that.

Somewhere in the last few years, Asajj Ventress had carved out a space in Obi-Wan’s heart, in between the ragged holes called Qui-Gon, Siri, and Satine, and while he wasn’t entirely sure he could throw caution to the wind and pursue a relationship with her, he also didn’t particularly want to rip her out, either.

But this wasn’t the time, and Obi-Wan was nothing if not excellent at compartmentalization. So, he shoved his internal conflict onto a shelf to be dealt with later, and focused his attention on the problem at hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” he asked Asajj, looking up at the gate to the stronghold. It had once been a nobleman’s home, Obi-Wan thought, and though it had been abandoned by civilization for many years, its weathered structures were still quite imposing.

She looked at him sidelong, raising one sharp brow-bone in annoyance.

“Very sure.” She said. “There is very little Bane values more than money, but the chance to kill you will definitely make the cut. If you wanted to back me up in this, you should have found a disguise. Besides,” she added, a sly grin twisting her lips. “I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

**

She left him on the ship, a worried frown wrinkling his forehead. She might have been touched at his concern, had he been less irritating over the past two days.

As a general rule, Asajj Ventress did not expose herself the way she had in the motel room last night, and to have done so and been left hanging was equal parts painful and embarrassing, a feeling to which she was profoundly unaccustomed.

She didn’t like it, and as the tall, heavy gates opened to admit her into Cad Bane’s retreat, she was almost hoping she’d get to hit something.

It was a nice place, though old and rather musty on the inside. Bane had been out of the bounty-hunting game for a few years now, and had become one of very few who managed to actually retire instead of dying in some seedy backwater. Cad Bane had always been good at looking after himself. He was well past his prime in terms of physicality, though rumor and her own rather more reliable circles of information in the criminal underworld agreed that his mind was sharp as ever.

A small droid, floating around her eye-level, met her as she entered the foyer.

“You have a meeting, yes?” it inquired pleasantly. Asajj nodded.

“Your boss is expecting me.”

“This way, please.” The droid set off along the luma-lit hallway, bobbing gently in the air. Asajj checked the fastenings on her twin wrist holsters and followed. The droid led her to a turbolift, and up to the top floor of the structure, which was high up enough to sit above the heavy cloud cover, and natural light from the planet’s weak sun filtered gently through floor-to-ceiling windows in the hallway leading from the lift door. The droid bobbed happily down this hallway, stopping before a pair of dark wood doors, and a soft chime emanated from its body. Cad Bane’s scratchy, slightly distorted drawl answered.

“Show her in, Oh-Tee.” The droid hummed, and the door swung inward with barely a sound. Asajj straightened her spine, and stalked inside, settling a Sith Lord’s callous, arrogant demeanor over her frame.

“Nice to finally meet you, Bane.” She said, brushing past the pair of assassin droids guarding the door. The being himself rose from the armchair he’d been lounging in. Age had weathered his face, carving the lines around his mouth into true wrinkles, but he was still tall and lithe, and the handshake he offered was firm. As a former apprentice of Count Dooku, Asajj knew better than to assume much about an old warrior.

“So it’s true, then.” He mused, more to himself than her. “Dooku’s assassin, alive and well. My sources have always been split, you know, on whether you made it past the end of the war. It’s not too difficult to steal a lightsaber, after all.”

“You’d know.” She said, inclining her head. He hadn’t made a game out of it like Greivous, but during the war, he’d killed his fair share of Jedi.

“I would. But enough about old times. You’re here about the Mon Cala military officers, Miss Ventress?” Inwardly, Asajj bristled at the condescension, but she let none of it show in her expression. This man had more than earned his reputation, no matter how long ago it had been.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for an agitator.” He continued, with a dark chuckle. “Doing a favor for a friend, are you?”

A tendril of ice crept down her spine. He couldn’t know, no one had known Obi-Wan had been on Corellia, and she’d stayed well away from him since he’d joined up with his rebels. Bane was fishing, and she was no idiot. She grinned, sharp and venomous.

“Please, you know the game. I have no friends, only clients. I work for who pays me, and I’m not about to tell you who that is.” She crossed her arms. “Now, I believe an arrangement was discussed. I have the money, if you have my intel.” Bane smiled, not at all nicely.

“A girl after my own heart.” He said, still grinning. “I have your information, though it was hard to come by. Money, then gossip.” Asajj pulled the pouch of credits from the hidden pocket in her boot, and set it down on the low table with a clink.

“30,000, as agreed upon. Do you want to count it?” He shrugged.

“I’ll do it later, I trust you’re aware of what happens to those who cross me.” He crossed the room to his desk, and pulled a chip from a locked drawer.

“Your fish are being transferred in the next couple of days, you’ll have to catch up with them at their destination. They’re being sent to the prison on Dathomir. One of them’s missing, though. A Gial Ackbar was arrested with the other six, but isn’t on the prison transport to Dathomir’s manifest. I can’t be sure where that one is, but there are a few guesses on your chip, there.” Asajj nodded, and turned to go.

“One more thing, Miss Ventress. I was disappointed not to meet your friend, the one you met for drinks on Nal Hutta the other day.” Asajj froze, she couldn’t help it. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear about that? Funny, it sure looked like you were drinking with a ghost.” Her finger twitched to the catch on her wrist holster, and Cad Bane laughed.

“Don’t worry, girl, you’ll leave here today. I don’t like a hunt to be too easy. But you tell him, your ghost-“ He leaned forward, his eyes glinting bloody in the pale sunlight.

“Tell him I owe him a debt, and I don’t forget so easy.”

**

9 BBY. Raxus. 

Worst. Day. _Ever._

That was all Leia could think. First, there was the kinda-sorta fight with Luke, then she’d gotten stuck on ship-watching duty, and now, now, she was in kriffing binders because they’d run into maybe the only Troopers in the Mid-Rim who’d actually bother to run papers through their system instead of just looking at the chips and moving on with their lives.

Or course, both Han and Leia’s papers were fake, given to them specifically for this mission. And apparently, whoever Ahsoka’s bosses used to make fake papers was no good at their job. And yeah, if she’d just mind tricked them to begin with, they wouldn’t be in this mess. But she hated mind tricking beings, and she’d thought, since they actually had papers this time, she’d get to avoid it.

But no, no, the Galaxy had a bone to pick with her this week. So here she was, sitting in a cold metal chair in a cold metal room, waiting for someone to come talk to her and wondering how in Han’s nine hells she was gonna get out of here. Leia’d been scared before, like real, oh-Force-I-might-really-die scared. Both times before, Dad had been there, and everything had happened so fast, she hadn’t had time to panic much before the moment passed and she was out of danger again. Today-wasn’t like that.

Because if they figured out who-or what-she was, they’d probably kill her. Dad had just about said that on the bounty hunter’s ship, and that Sith had sure as anything tried to blow them up on Nar Shaddaa. Han was a good friend, but he was just as handcuffed as she was, and he wasn’t Dad, couldn’t move mountains with his mind or shoot the ear flap off a womp rat at fifty meters. Auntie probably didn’t even know they were in trouble, and that meant Leia was kriffing sunk. Distantly, she noticed her hands were shaking, the binders rattling gently against the hard surface of the table.

She was nine-years-old, and all she wanted, in that moment, was for the door to open and Dad to be there, dusty and warm, presence blazing through the Force like the suns back home.

Forget adventures and Rebels, Leia just wanted to feel _safe_ and _home_ again.


	14. Don't Cry Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé does her duty, Luke has a truly terrible day, Ahsoka and Co. make some frenemies, and Anakin continues to Have a Rough Time.
> 
> Previously, Padmé narrowly escapes the Empire in a stolen fighter, Ahsoka and Co, plus the Twins and Han, go on a supply run to Raxus, which goes wrong when Leia and Han are arrested, and Anakin finds himself in a duel with Lord Malefus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! I'm back! I hope some of you are still out there reading. My apologies in advance, because this thing is monstrously long, but such is the climax of a story, you know?

9BBY. Dac. 

Padmé was well past tired and into exhausted when she took her ship out of hyperspace, out of Dac’s sensor range. Call her paranoid, but she couldn’t take the chance that her call to Mon would be intercepted. She hadn’t run an Imperial blockade and lived with Goddess-forsaken _pirates_ for nearly a year only to be captured now.

Mon picked up after what felt like an eternity. Padmé had coded the holo frequency to be voice-only, which was enough of a risk. Last she’d heard, Dac didn’t have a huge Imperial presence, but there were undoubtedly troopers here, and she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. 

“Who’s this?” said Mon, suspicion lacing her tone. Padmé relaxed at her old friend’s voice.

“A friend.” She said simply. Mon’s breath came out in a rush, audible in the comm’s pickup. 

“Indeed you are, my dear.” she said, tone grave. “But I’m afraid you mustn’t stay.” 

“What’s happened?” 

“My business is delayed, the political climate on Dac is making things difficult. I shouldn’t say anything more.” Padmé’s heart sank. The Empire must have cracked down on Dac in the months she had been out of the Galactic loop. 

_Goddess, let Mon be safe._

“Well, when can I see you, old friend? It’s been too long.” 

“I agree,” said Mon, “Tell you what, how about you go to my vacation home on Brentaal? There’s no need to worry about silly politics there, and when I’m done here, I can come meet you!” She gasped again, affecting excitement, “Oh! I’ll invite some more friends there, won’t that be nice! The old gang back together!” Padmé’s brows came down. Brentaal IV was practically on top of Imperial Center, deep in the Core. Safety’s sake, surely there were better places to meet?

“That does sound like fun,” said Padmé. She didn’t need to fake the hesitation in her tone. “I suppose I can be there in a couple of days?” 

“Lovely!” chirped Mon, sounding nothing like the somber woman she was. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon! Now, go on, you! Leave me to my work!” The comm call cut out. Padmé sighed and, feeling rather like a negaball, plugged Brentaal IV’s coordinates into her navicomputer. As the stars stretched around her once more, she reflected, only a little shamefacedly, that she would quite literally kill for a shower with real water. 

**

9 BBY. Aboard the _Mountain's Majeesty_ , Somewhere Between Sulon and Corellia.

“I take it that’s not a good message?” asked Sabé, raising one immaculate eyebrow at him. Bail frowned, looking up from the text on his datapad.

“It’s-an interesting message.” He murmured. “Call down to the bridge, will you, and have them change course. We need to make a stop on Brentaal on the way to the meeting.” Sabé’s sharp gaze snapped up, all teasing light gone from her eyes.

“That’s in an entirely different sector-The timetable-Organa, we cannot miss this meeting!”

“I’m well aware.” Growled Bail. “Don’t presume to tell me what this movement does and doesn’t need, Sabé. I trust your advice as a counterespionage expert, but politics is my area.” 

“I would never.” Said Sabé coolly. “I simply meant, with the considerable effort taken on my part to ensure that this meeting goes the way we need it to, I’ll be incredibly irritated if it’s for nothing.” She waved a hand in the air. “For Goddess’ sake, Organa, it’s been years since I was Padmé’s double, it’ll take hours to get my face made up right.” Bail sighed.

“Then you can use the extra time to make sure it’s perfect.” He snapped. “Mon wouldn’t have me stop off for her dry-cleaning, this is important.” She turned and stalked out, pausing only to shoot over her shoulder;

“I hope you know what you’re doing, _Senator._ ” Irritated, Bail made a rude gesture at the door. Spirits, but Sabé was annoying. Bail didn’t remember much of her during her tenure as Padmé’s handmaiden, but in the past several months, she’d been snapping at his heels rather more than Bail thought entirely necessary. Kriff, he knew he was underqualified to lead a rebellion, she didn’t need to remind him constantly. 

Perhaps she’d be better once Padmé was found. Surely the constant worry for her friend was souring her personality. Luke adored her, she couldn’t possibly be this mean all the time.

Still, he shouldn’t have snapped at her. 

Sabé really was an expert in counterespionage, and on this mission, her ability to imitate Padmé was Bail’s loaded die. To everyone paying attention to this sort of thing, Padmé was missing, presumed dead, and there had been a good deal of rumbling, both in the past few months and in the early days of the Empire, as to her loyalty. The beings at the meeting today would remember that, and that she’d been a loud voice in the Opposition throughout Palpatine’s term as Chancellor. Her presence at the meeting would make or break their cause, for she had a credibility that he, always determined to be the cool, moderate voice of reason, had never attained. 

If Bail and ‘Padmé’ swept into this meeting together, though, the sheer surprise would give them the upper hand they so desperately needed in negotiations. Now, Sabé was a consummate professional, not the type to back out on him over a couple of nasty comments, but all the same, she wasn’t someone he wanted as an enemy. 

They went back into hyperspace a few minutes later, and Bail went back to the files he’d been poring over before Mon’s message had appeared on his datapad. 

It was formidable stuff. Bail’s resistance had a pretty good intelligence network, if he did say so himself. There was a several thousand-byte file on Ferus Olin and his associates on Bellassa, for example, and one near as large on Bo-Katan Kryze and her gang of Mando’a exiles. She was a loose cannon, violent and not terribly interested in ideals, but her men were extremely well-trained, and she had good numbers. 

Then there were the others, potential rebels all. Separatist generals, a small battle group of actual, honest-to-spirits anarchists, and a handful of pacifists, by all accounts interested more in peaceful disruption and protest of the Empire’s agenda. Cham Syndulla would probably be there as well, he and his Ryloth refugees. 

Syndulla and Kryze were the dangerous ones, Bail thought. He’d not met either of them before, but by all accounts, they were charismatic. They each had a very specific idea of what was needed in the struggle against the Empire, and neither gave much of a vape about methods, so long as their ends were met. If this meeting was to result in a real alliance, Bail would have to temper the pair of them. The key, he thought, would be to appeal to the rest, the moderates.

Bail had made a career on doing just that, collecting those last few moderate votes to get his bills passed. To do so, he would have to show them his faction had more than a shot in the dark of winning the shadow war they’d started. 

Olin would listen to him, he was sure. They shared a background, had both lost friends in Operation Knightfall, and most importantly, they shared a code. Olin had so far been unwilling to hurt civilians and not inclined to the gory ‘messages’ that Kryze and the anarchists had left in town squares and hung from balconies on the worlds they fought over. 

Bail spent the remainder of the trip to Mon’s home speechwriting. He had a pounding headache by the end, but his points were memorized and rehearsed. He felt prepared, as much as anyone could, in a situation with so many wild cards. Mon’s chateau was rustic as ever, nestled between two remote crags. It belonged to an aunt of hers, in truth, but she was the only one of her family to ever use it. Between that and its position, high in the mountains, it was a safe enough meeting place, whoever this contact was. 

Bail spotted the agent as soon as he debarked, standing in the shadow of a tree a few hundred yards away. They were humanoid and small, both short and slim. Bail squinted in the midday sun as the being stepped out onto the snow-dusted landing pad. The sun was bright, and the being rather far off, but he could swear-

Bail started towards her, but he only made it two steps before Sabé shot past, knocking into his shoulder as she went. He straightened up and kept walking as the two women slammed together in a tangle of arms. He reached the pair of them just as they let go of each other and Sabé growled,

“Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again.” The other woman was coated in a thick layer of brown dust, and dressed in grubby work clothes, her hair in a messy, dirty braid. It looked decidedly odd on her, clean and put together as she had been in his entire experience with her. And yet it was certainly Padmé Amidala, brown eyes sparking with joy at the sight of Bail.

He gathered her in for a hug, despite the grime. 

“You scared us, Padmé.” 

“I’m sorry.” She said, smiling. “Believe me, I’ve spent the last eight months trying to get back.” 

“What happened to you?” asked Sabé. “Those filthy pirates-“

“-Saved my life.” Interrupted Padmé smoothly. “I had just negotiated a ship and safe passage to you all when a blockade descended on the planet, it was impossible to get through until a few days ago. Where is my son?” Sabé smiled, possibly for the first time since Luke had left the skystation.

“He’s with Ahsoka, picking up some supplies. They’re probably on their way to our friends on Sulon as we speak.” Padmé took a deep, shaky breath, relief palpable on her face. 

“I want to see him.” She said.

“Well,” said Bail, turning to the ship, “You’ll see him soon. We’ve been given an opportunity to make friends, though, and I could really use your help with the politics of it all. There’s a meeting on Corellia, of various dissident groups from across the Galaxy. We need their support to make this work, Padmé. You know this, I think.” He made to step onto the ship but turned when no sounds of movement came from behind. 

Padmé stood rooted to the snowy duracrete. Her jaw had gone tight and her eyes stormy. Sabé laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“They’re not expected on Sulon for three days yet, Padmé.” She said. “You’ll beat him there, even if we go.” When Padmé’s frown stayed in place, she added, “The resistance, the Galaxy. We need you.” Padmé shook her head.

“I’ll come.” Her gaze snapped to Bail, brown eyes flashing with an anger he’d never seen in his friend before, personal and low-burning like an ember. “And then you’ll take me to my son.”

 

**

9 BBY. Raxus, City of Tamwith Bay

Shavit. Shavit, shavit, shavit. 

They were karked. 

Han thumped his forehead against the cold metal table he was cuffed to. He wasn’t sure, really, what the Empire did to kids with fake papers, but it couldn’t be good. They’d have been better off saying they didn’t have any. A trooper might take pity on a pair of kids running around with no papers, but fake ones. Fake ones meant they had something to hide.

He had to get them out of here, before the Imps did anything to Leia. He knew she was strong, stronger than any kid-maybe any person-he’d ever known, but she was just a kid. 

Han was the grownup here, he could think of something. He would think of something. 

Two hours later, he hadn’t yet.

The Imp guards weren’t stupid; they kept a close eye on the cell block. Han didn’t know, either, which exact cell Leia was being held in. How was it, in the holodramas, that the Brave Heroes always knew exactly which cell door to kick in to rescue their princesses? 

Not that Leia was his, or a princess, sure, but she sure as all hells acted like it, sometimes. And she _sure as all hells_ needed rescuing, dammit. He had to think.

In that moment, an almighty crash sounded somewhere outside. Han jumped violently and shot to his feet. He crossed the cell in two steps and pressed his face as close to the field as he dared. He couldn’t see anything but the bare walls and a half-meter thick slab of durasteel. It led to stairs up to the ground floor, and he’d only seen it open twice, when the Imp guards had come in and gone. 

There was silence for a long time after that. 

Han stayed up against the field, straining to hear. He’d just stepped back and decided it was some idiot trooper dropping his helmet or something when the world kriffing ended.

** 

Han was choking. 

There was smoke everywhere, stinging his eyes and filling his throat with acrid, superheated air. It seared the inside of his lungs with every breath. His chest ached with coughing and all he could hear was ringing.

And none of it mattered, none of it, because where the _hells_ was Leia? 

The field was gone, knocked out by-explosion, it must have been an explosion-and so Han stumbled through the hot, smoky cell block, calling for Leia and unable to hear his own voice. After an eternity, way too long, movement caught his eye from somewhere to his right. He spun, trying desperately to make out shapes in the haze of the bombed-out cell block, and finally saw a big chunk of rubble trembling, and then flying out to break against the opposite wall.

“Han?” The voice sounded like it was speaking underwater, but he thought he recognized it, anyway.

“Kid? Kid, is that you?” he yelled, and was rewarded by the sight of a tiny human crawling out of the corner where the big piece of wall had come from. Leia slammed into Han’s midsection, arms wrapping around his waist. She was shaking. He patted at her hair, awkward, and spoke, still unable to hear his own voice right.

“Hey, we’re okay, kiddo. We, uh, we gotta go, though.” The smoke couldn’t be good for their lungs. Leia nodded, and pulled away. 

“How do we get out of here?” The words barely made it through Han’s ears, but from the looks of her, hazy as she was, she was yelling.

Han looked around, smoke stinging his eyes. Everything was cast in a red, hazy glow from the emergency lights. It all looked the kriffing same, all torn metal and duracrete, and the smoke, hanging thick and gray. 

“Can-“ he paused to cough. “Can you do your Force thing, feel around?” She stared up at him, eyes round and tearing and terrified. But then she nodded, and shut them, face screwing up, out of fear and into concentration. For a second, Han almost thought the air got heavier around them. 

“This way.” Said Leia, pointing to a section of haze that was totally the same as everything else. 

Han shrugged, and followed her. She staggered along, tripping her way over chunks of ceiling and walls. Sithspit, Han hoped there were no kriffing bodies down here. He’d seen a few, growing up, but he didn’t think Leia ever had and she didn’t need that today, on top of everything else. 

Leia stopped, so suddenly that Han actually ran into her. She stretched out a hand toward a pile of rubble, coughed a couple of times, and then shoved at the empty air. The pile of stones blew apart with a muffled bang, and Han felt a cool, if pretty foul-smelling, breath of air on his face. 

“Is that the-“ Leia nodded.

“Yeah,” she croaked. “Sewer.” 

 

**

9BBY. Raxus, City of Tamwith Bay. 

The building was leveled, nothing left but a smoking ruin. 

Luke stared in horror. 

The guy from the landing strip had said that troopers had picked up Leia and Han, that they’d be in the local Imp garrison. Ahsoka hadn’t wanted to leave him alone, so they’d gone together to barter them out. They were just around the corner when the roar went up, spitting flames and thick, black smoke seventy feet high.

That meant—it meant—it meant— _no._

It _couldn’t_ mean what it meant. It just couldn’t. Han was his friend, Leia was his best friend, his-his sister, his _twin,_ he would know if she-

She _couldn’t_ be gone, she couldn’t. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” came a voice to his right. Luke’s eyes shot sideways, hearing his mom’s voice in his head ( _Luke, never let anyone see you eavesdrop_ ) and he spotted the speaker, a tall, spindly Umbaran. The being beside her was a small Selkath with pale green skin, and he snorted.

“Coulda done better, if LT’d let me use the new stuff we got last week.” He was talking about the explosion, about the _horrible_ sight in front of them. Luke swore he could still hear the screaming. 

Without him really deciding to do it, Luke’s fist balled up. Immediately, Ahsoka clamped a hand on his shoulder.

_Calm yourself, Young One. We won’t let them get away._ Her voice, raspy and warm, sounded in his head. Luke grit his teeth, and thought back,

_I can stop them myself._ As he thought it, his fist clenched, tighter and tighter. The Umbaran woman stiffened, eyes going wide in fear and her fingers tugging at her collar. Ahsoka’s hand squeezed hard on his shoulder.

_No, Luke. Wait._

Luke yanked away from her. What did she know, it wasn’t her sister who was-was-

The Umbaran woman dropped like her knees had gone out from under her, totally limp. Luke’s hand went slack. Had he done that? 

Beside his friend, the Selkath yelped and dove for cover, but in a flash of sunlight on copper, Ko-Iri shot out of the crowd and clamped a hand around his wrist, her gun jamming into his back.

“Easy, friend,” she said, sweet and soft, “wouldn’t want my finger to slip, after all.” Luke was almost impressed at how not one being even looked away from the blazing fire to notice how there was a kidnapping happening. 

Captain Rex followed Ko-Iri out of the group of rubberneckers, bent down smoothly, and scooped the unconscious Umbaran into his arms. 

“Let’s go, then.” He said. Luke blinked. 

“What about Han and Leia?” he cried. Ahsoka shook her head.

“Go with Rex and Ko-Iri, okay? I’ll-I’ll stay here and-“ she took a deep breath “-look around a little.” She took Luke’s hand. “I’ll find them, Luke. I promise.”

The trip back to the _Falcon_ was quick, with Rex and Ko-Iri hustling the Selkath prisoner and Luke as fast as their short legs would take them. The rest of the team was waiting back at the ship, Jesse and Kix sitting criss-cross on the landing ramp. They jumped up almost as soon as Luke spotted them in the distance. 

“What was it?” asked Jesse, as the Selkath spat.

“Karking clones.” He gowled. Ko-Iri jammed her blaster harder into his back.

“Shut up, you.” She snapped. “These aresholes, plus a few more, blew up the Imperial garrison.”

“The kids-“ Rex snapped a hand up, demanding silence, and Luke scowled. He’d been there, space it, he knew what had-

Nope. He wasn’t thinking about it. Just like he wasn’t thinking about Mom, or about how he apparently had a Dad, and how that meant the Mom had _lied to him,_ or about how Mom and Dad hadn’t stayed together, or, or, or. 

There were a lot of ‘ors’ in there. 

They stuck the two prisoners in the _Falcon’s_ smuggling hatches, which would have been really cool if there wasn’t a huge knot of pain in his chest whenever he thought about the ship- _Han’s, Leia’s ship_ -at all. He tugged on Ko-Iri’s sleeve until she looked down at him.

“What are we gonna do with them?” he asked. She pulled him over to the Derjarik table and waited until he climbed up onto the padded bench.

“What do you think we should do with them?” she asked, cocking her head towards him. Luke thought about it for a moment. 

“I want to hurt them.” He said, finally. “I don’t think I’m supposed to, though. I’m supposed to say we should put them in jail, right?” Ko-Iri blinked at him a few times. 

“ _I_ don’t think we should put them in jail.” She said. “We don’t even have a jail, we’d have to give them to the Imps.” Luke shook his head.

“I don’t think we should do that. The Imps would kill them.” He knew that. The Imps had killed a traitor on the steps of Theed Palace once, when he and Mom had been there visiting Auntie Sola. He’d worn a sack on his head and ‘troopers had shot him right there in front of everyone.

“So you want to hurt them because of what they did to Leia and Han, but you don’t want them to die?” Luke shook his head.

“No, I don’t think so. And I-I want to hurt them, I do, but-Mom, and Leia, and Han, they wouldn’t want me to, I don’t think.” Ko-Iri smiled. 

“That’s very wise of you.” She said. “Master Tano and Rex think we should use these two as bait to catch the rest and take them to Senator Organa.” Luke frowned. 

“What’s Senator Organa going to do with them? It’s like you said, we don’t really have a jail.” Ko-Iri nodded. 

“The Senator would probably give them the option to work for him. For his resistance.” 

“But-they killed my friends!” said Luke, shocked. “They’re-they’re bad guys!” Ko-Iri sighed.

“I wish it was that simple.” She said softly. “Unfortunately, we’re trying to take on an Empire, kid, we can’t afford to turn allies away, even if we don’t like them very much.” Luke scowled.

“I don’t get it. They blew up-“

“An Imperial garrison.” Interrupted Ko-Iri. “What they did was wrong, kid, it was. But, they’re fighting against the Empire, like we are. I’ve blown up a few Imperial garrisons too.” She reached for Luke’s hand. “There isn’t room for good guys and bad guys here. We’re all a little bit of both. Can you accept that, do you think?” 

Luke thought about it. He thought about Mom, who’d lied to him all his life, pretended to be a loyal Senator when really she wasn’t, pretended his Dad was dead, that it was just the two of them, when really he had a father and-until today, anyway-a sister, too. 

He thought about Han, who scowled and grumbled and Leia said had even killed someone, but was always happy to show Luke the controls on the flight sims at the skystation anyway. 

He thought about Ahsoka, who knew who he was, and could talk inside his head. She’d brought them here to Raxus, but she’d also made sure he was safe in the warehouse, and she’d trusted him to take care of himself, like a big kid. 

“I guess.” He mumbled. Ko-Iri smiled. 

“Thanks, Ruwee. I know it’s hard, believe me.” 

**

Captain Rex explained the plan in terse words. Their two prisoners had at least one superior; that superior would surely notice they’d been captured, and the trail back to the _Millenium Falcon_ was easy enough for a two-bit P.I. to follow. Rex meant to catch them in a trap.

Of course, as the only person present with any formal negotiation training, it was _Arana_ who’d be conducting that hostage crisis, since Commander Tano herself was still at the blown garrison, looking for the other two children-or, more likely, their remains. 

Dead children with the Empire, dead children with the rebel movement. War cared not, after all, for the personal convictions of her victims. _At least nobody’s offering me a bloody promotion over it today_ , he thought grimly. 

It was hardly fifteen minutes before the woman appeared. She was human, stocky and muscular, and though she held her hands up and well away from it, her hips and thighs were adorned with at least four guns. There were two other beings with her, another human female and a big Feeorin male, but she occupied nearly all of his attention for the way she carried herself. 

She walked as though she owned the spaceport itself, the casual arrogance of noble birth in the set of her shoulders. Arana rose smoothly to his feet, arranging his face in a dispassionate mask. His troubled heart could wait; Commander Tano was counting on him to find some justice. 

“You’ve taken my soldiers.” Said the woman. Her voice was low and hoarse, likely due to the extensive scarring splashed across the left side of her throat, face, and skull. She’d been spared any blindness, from the way her left eye focused and narrowed along with the right, but her ear was certainly a prosthetic. She continued speaking as she sauntered still closer, her voice carrying better now. “I’d like them back.”

“Your soldiers broke a number of the general rules of engagement today, Madam.” Arana answered, leaning into his Academy accent. She stared back, unrepentant.

“Who are you, then, the Imperial Senate, come to try me before our Honorable Emperor?” The sneer in the honorific was searing. “I’ll happily take my sentence, if only His High Excellence will stand trial directly behind me.” Her topaz eyes seemed to glow with the force of her anger. “You have no room to judge me, Imperial. I use the methods that work.” 

“Not today.” Said Arana simply. She cocked her head to the side, considering his accent, his ill-fitting borrowed clothes, and behind him, Jesse, who’d just appeared from inside the ship, his Cog tattoo proudly on display. 

“You aren’t an Imperial at all, are you? You’re the ones behind the to-do with the customs squadron. Fellow insurgents ought not to judge one another, hm?” 

“Try smugglers, witch.” snapped Jesse.

“Not with that tattoo, you aren’t.” the woman shot back. “I know a Fett clone when I see one, and besides, I knew you were coming.” At Arana’s raised eyebrow, she added, “Servants talk, and my men and I listen.” 

“Be that as it may,” said Arana, hauling the negotiations back on track. “I have an offer for you.” 

“Going to bring us to _justice_? You know the Empire will shoot us where we stand.” She shrugged. “Seems a waste.” 

Arana growled. “There were _children_ in there, you bloody terrorist.” At that, her eyes widened just a little, the first crack in her air of casual arrogance. The Feeorin went pale, his deep green skin turning a sickly shade. 

“I did not know.” Said the woman, her voice utterly steady. “Believe what you like, but I did not know. When we did our recon a few hours ago, there were no prisoners in holding.” Arana shrugged.

“I don’t particularly care for your guilt.” He said. “That’s for you to square with. My terms are simple. We are part of a resistance movement. You and your men can come with us and turn your talents to our cause, or we can shoot all of you here, starting with your compatriots on board my ship.” As if to punctuate what he said, Ko-Iri flicked the laser sight on her sniper rifle on then, so that the woman could see its shine, settled directly between the Feeorin’s eyes. To his credit, he seemed unfazed.

“And what cause is that?” asked the woman. Rex answered for him.

“We’re going to free the Galaxy from Emperor Palpatine, or we’re gonna die trying.” She cocked her head to the side, considering both Arana and the two men behind him. Beside her, the other woman said,

“Why not, Axa. Raxus was always too small for us, you said so yourself. Besides, they’ve got the right idea. That bastard Palpatine-“ the woman, apparently called Axa, nodded sharply, cutting the other woman off. She addressed Arana.

“My men and I work together, we are not second-class citizens, and I won’t see any of us put on trial by hypocrites.” When Arana hesitated, she added, “You might kill us all in the end, but I expect we’ll take some of you with us.”

“Our movement welcomes all.” Said Arana finally. Axa rolled her eyes, so he added, “We don’t have the numbers to do anything else.” The Feeorin barked a short laugh.

“Ain’t that the truth.” 

So the three of them boarded the _Millennium Falcon_ , completely ignoring the hostile looks Rex and Jesse leveled at them as they did so. Arana hauled their comrades out of the smuggling compartments and gave Axa a minute to explain to them what had happened. 

Ruwee sat still even as the whole colorful troop walked past him, staring through the derjarik table. 

He stayed there, still as stone under Ko-Iri’s arm, until Commander Tano appeared on the _Millenium Falcon’s_ gangway twenty minutes later, carrying a scorched, but very much alive, Leia Skywalker on her back. Han Solo staggered aboard after them, equally scorched, and equally alive. 

Even as the young boy leapt to his feet and cannoned into Solo, Arana smiled.

War, it seemed, need not always get her way. 

**

9 BBY. Lianna, Capital City of Lola Curich. 

Fine. If it was a fight he wanted, Anakin could oblige him.

Wrapping the Force around him like a blanket, he twisted away from the Sith’s blade as it swept toward him once more. The man’s golden eyes sparked with triumph as he followed up with a lightning-fast kick. Anakin couldn’t change direction in time to avoid it. The man’s boot connected with Anakin’s chest, knocking him into empty air. He flipped, kicked off the opposite support strut, and lunged up at the Sith, who yanked his blade back up to block the strike. 

Anakin used the force of the block to bounce back off the support, on his own terms this time. He dropped through the air, and used the Force to cushion his landing on a defunct conveyor belt. 

_Just like Geonosis._

The Sith dropped down to land at the far end of the same belt.

“So you see now, _Chosen One,_ you cannot run from me. Perhaps instead you’ll face me.” His voice turned mocking. “I thought the Jedi had no fear.” He turned his saber over his hand in a tight spiral of red. Anakin shook his head. 

“Everyone feels fear, Sith.” He took a breath as though to speak again, and saw the Sith settle minutely. Anakin lunged.

This time the Sith was on the defensive, barely getting his saber up in time. Their blades slammed together once more, green light flaring with the force of the collision and reflecting off the Sith Lord’s eyes, momentarily shocked. Anakin grinned, savage, and spat,

“But I’m not afraid of you.” And with that, he sank as deep into the Force as he dared in a fight, enough that his head went spun with it. He shoved against the Sith’s guard, knocking the man back with his sudden strength, steeped in the Force. Anakin pressed his advantage, forcing the Sith to step back once more, off of the conveyor. Anakin made to strike at him from above, but the Sith danced away and launched himself back up into the rafters in a series of quick bounds. Anakin grinned again, to himself this time. 

After all, if he couldn’t retreat to the outside, maybe he could press the Sith out instead. 

He followed, leaping first to the top of the defunct assembly machines and then into the rafters. It was dark with shadows, lit only by intermittent sprays of pale daylight where they shot through the windows and skylight. Try as he might, Anakin couldn’t see the Sith Lord-Malefus, his title was-without his bloody saber to mark him out in the darkness. He could feel the other in the Force, a sucking cold vortex of rage and fear, but the whole factory was shrouded in the dark side and Anakin couldn’t pin down the Sith's location

Instead, he turned to the mundane, listening for the scuff of a boot or the rustle of fabric, anything to find the man in the dark. 

There! The softest rush of air, a breath let go too loudly. Anakin spun and ignited his saber in one motion, sweeping it hard and fast at the empty air before him. The blade connected with nothing.

Anakin brought it back up into the classic Djem So opening, letting the gentle hum and the familiarity of the pose sink into his bones and settle his nerves. As he strained his senses once more, he could almost hear the rhythmic sounds of the Temple’s lightsaber dojos. He set his back to a support strut and waited. 

This time, the noise was the hiss of a saber blade snapping into being and were it not for the pillar of steel at his back, Anakin’s spine would have been parted. As it was, he felt the icy energy off the tip of the saber as he spun away from the strut. The steel beneath his feet groaned as the support gave way, glowing orange, but Anakin was ready. By the time the beam started to sink under him, he was already gone, twisting in midair to catch the Sith’s following strike on his saber, batting the red blade back at him. 

He landed hard, collapsing into a roll along a more stable beam. Malefus was quick behind, slashing with his crimson blade. On one knee, Anakin blocked the strike and the two sabers locked. The Sith bore down with considerable strength, pushing the blades perilously close to Anakin’s nose before he could gather himself. But while Anakin hadn’t had the chance to duel much in the last decade, a mechanic’s work was heavy labor and, once he’d centered himself, he found he was stronger than Malefus. Even as they had crept toward his face, the crossed blades shifted inexorably away once more.

The Sith’s snarl deepened, ugly and twisted.

Anakin kept pushing, shoving himself to his feet as he went. Malefus growled, twisting his saber viciously to break the locked blades and Anakin leaned back so as not to overbalance when the Sith jerked away. Anakin lunged for him once more, refusing to let Malefus get any distance. 

They danced along the rafters, crossing blades only sporadically. Anakin’s footwork and grace were sorely tested by the narrow beams, but he hadn’t fallen yet, so it could be worse, he supposed. His opponent seemed no better off, anyway. Like Anakin, he hadn’t stepped wrong yet, but his movements betrayed his unease at the treacherous footing. Visibly frustrated, he snarled at Anakin and threw a hand out, shoving through the Force. 

The push carried him off the beam and into the empty air. He hit a far rafter on his back, hard, the air rushing out of his lungs as he skidded toward the corner of the roof. The Sith had already leapt for him. There wasn't enough time to get to his feet, but there _was_ a small skylight just behind him. Anakin set his jaw, seeing his chance. 

As the Sith’s blade swept toward him, Anakin tucked his knees in and slammed both his feet into Malefus' chest, using the other man's momentum against him. The red blade flashed out and Anakin couldn’t bite back a yell of shock and pain as its tip scored a thin line along his outstretched arm. It worked, though.

Malefus went flying, straight into the window, which, being made of real glass, shattered as he hit it, sending him through it and onto the roof. Anakin shoved himself to his feet, ignoring the pain shooting through his arm, and followed his quarry out onto the roof and out of the Stormtroopers’ range. 

The Sith was waiting for him, with a furious flurry of blows that Anakin raced to keep up with one-handed. His style of fighting wasn’t well suited to single-handed fencing, but one glance down told him he’d have to try. The saber strike had slagged his right hand, maybe beyond repair. 

Still, they were on the roof now, which meant he could get the _hell_ out of this fight. He danced backwards, leading the Sith toward the edge of the roof and weaving out of the path of the lightsaber. Malefus, who had apparently thought that Anakin would be an easy kill without his sword hand, growled as Anakin spun out of his reach once more. 

“I’m getting tired of this dance, Jedi!” Anakin shrugged, projecting nonchalance into the Force and knowing it would infuriate his opponent. Maybe even enough to make him lose his grip.

“You’re the one keeping it going. I tried to leave, remember?” He said lightly. Malefus narrowed his eyes.

“Perhaps I’ll take you back to my Master, after all. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your sparkling wit.” 

Suddenly, the Force twinged, like shivering viol strings, and Anakin glanced down over the edge of the roof to see a battered freighter hovering uncertainly a few hundred feet below. Well, he certainly wasn’t about to stay here, so-

“I’d die first.” Said Anakin, deadly serious. “Palpatine will never use me as his attack dog.”

The last he saw of the Sith, his face was contorted in fury, shrinking up and away as Anakin fell into the empty air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :) Whether you did or not, comments are nice and make me want to write faster. 
> 
> Also if anyone's interested, I made a few edits to the first story in this series, I Know: Or, How Ahsoka Tano Saved the Skywalkers. The plot isn't any different, but the characterizations and world-building are. 
> 
> One more left, guys. We're almost there!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Unlike the last story, this one's going to be in chronological order. Thank you so much for reading, and as always, please leave me comments! I love them!


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